


Starlight

by ShotACharlatan



Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid, The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Domestic Fluff, During Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon, Queer Families, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 54,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24879685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShotACharlatan/pseuds/ShotACharlatan
Summary: "It all starts with a fake invitation to a rather good production of Godspell, a lousy date with a secret homophobe, and a doomsday survivalist who gets far too involved in other people's business..."
Relationships: Henry Hidgens/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 43
Kudos: 25





	1. Something's Coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, and welcome to Starlight!
> 
> I've been a fan of Starkid ever since A Very Potter Musical came out. Lots of their characters have stolen my heart just a little bit over the years, but after watching The Guy Who didn't Like Musicals, I feel like I can safely say that Professor Hidgens is my favourite Starkid character ever. I know that a lot of people out there agree with me!
> 
> He obviously does some awful things in the canon, but there's a vulnerability and a sadness to him that I find very interesting and wanted to explore, so here we are. The Hatchetfield musicals seem to exist in alternate universes from each other... So why not create my own AU in which our favourite biology professor is a little more grounded and *might* be pulled from the path of destruction?
> 
> He also might... not. You'll have to read along to find out!
> 
> The fic is already complete; I'll be posting new chapters every Tuesday & Saturday.
> 
> Thanks so much, and I hope you enjoy the story!

**Could it be? Yes, it could.**  
**Something's coming, something good.**

**\- "Something's Coming",** **_West Side Story_ **

xx.xx

The crowd erupted into a chorus of applause.

Honestly, the turnout was impressive - the bar was full to capacity, stuffed with students, locals, and one or two older-looking people in the back Robbie guessed may have been members of the teaching faculty.

From her spot at the side of the stage, she squinted at the sea of faces. The meager stage lights made it difficult to make out the audience's features, but still, she searched for her date's big blue eyes and mop of blonde hair.

The MC sauntered back to the stage: "Wow! Let's give Zoey another _big_ round of applause!"

As the crowd went wild once again, Robbie couldn't help but roll her eyes _just_ a little. Zoey was undoubtedly talented, sure, but it all seemed a bit much as she wiped away (definitely imaginary) tears, kissed her hands and threw her arms out to her audience as if it were her opening night on Broadway. 

"Now, I know that our talent showcase is usually filled with performances from our musical theatre club, but next up is..." The MC squinted at the running order. "Robin Franks, with something we haven't actually had at our monthly showcase before... Give her a big H.C.C. welcome as she comes to the stage!"

Robbie rose to her feet as the crowd gave her that "big Hatchetfield Community College welcome" the MC had asked for: a smattering of quiet claps and one disinterested-sounding cough.

Her hand shook as she took the mic, and the metallic sound rattled around the room. "Thanks everybody, it's great to be here. Y'know, this is actually my first time doing comedy, and ... Uhh..."

Now she had a clearer view of her audience, she searched for him again.

Where was he?

"I... Uhh..." Robbie swayed on the spot, getting a little too close to the mic, which squealed in response. The crowd winced.

_He didn't show up._

_Of course._

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh..." The crowd started whispering among themselves, and, in the corner of her eye, Robbie spotted Zoey giggling.

_Deep breaths, Robbie. Don't think about him. There's probably a reasonable explanation._

"...Sorry, I froze up a little there."

Silence from the crowd.

"Well this is awkward, huh? My first gig ever, and I've messed it up before I've even started."

She paused for a pity laugh that never came. 

_Jesus Christ, just get on with it!_

"So tonight I'm going to talk to you about the differences between guys in Hatchetfield and my hometown of Clivesdale..."

~~~

_"Great job!"_

Robbie took a slow sip of her beer before swiveling around on her bar stool. Zoey stood there, beaming with an entirely insincere smile.

"Thanks, Zoey, that means a lot. Honestly you were really good, you--"

"Um, that was a joke. You kinda bombed."

"...Oh."

"Especially when you got into that bit about how all the men in Hatchetfield 'suck ass'. That was _not_ cute. Very bitter. Not a good look for you."

"Yeah... well..."

"Don't worry - keep at it and maybe one day you'll become an amazing performer, like me!" Zoey gave her a pat on the back, and although Robbie desperately hoped that the younger girl was joking, she knew in her heart that she was being deadly serious. "So... from that performance, I'm guessing that you've not had the best experience with dating since coming to college, huh?"

"It was just a joke, Zoey. My dating experience has been--" _Ding ding!_ Robbie's phone vibrated in her lap, cutting her off mid-sentence.

Of course. "Something came up" was Scott's go-to excuse. Why had she even expected him to come this time? Why had she thought he'd ever publicly support her?

 _As_ _if he'd ever do that,_ Robbie thought, furiously typing a reply.

Taking another swing of beer, she turned back towards the bar, hoping that Zoey would get the hint to leave her alone.

"If it's any consolation," the younger girl said, completely ignoring the social cue and taking the seat next to Robbie, " _I'm_ basically being stalked. So, you might not be having any luck with dates, but I'm like, actually getting _too much_ attention." There wasn't even a hint of hesitation or worry in her voice. "It's this professor, he teaches biology, I had him in Freshman year. Whenever I'm performing, he _always_ shows up."

"That's craaaaaazy." Robbie's voice dripped with apathy and she couldn't have given less of a shit about it.

Zoey carried on without hesitation. "I know," She smirked. "He can't get enough of me."

Robbie snorted. "I bet."

"I'm being serious! He comes to every show, without fail."

Robbie already felt awful about being stood up, and even worse for bitching about it onstage - she'd only done this stupid show to put herself out there and meet new people, and she already knew Zoey perfectly well - she'd had enough of her backhand bragging. "And what if it's not about _you?_ What if he just _really_ likes musicals?

"Ha, doubt it. He's a total hermit, like... he doesn't even leave his house to teach classes, he does it all online. But he was here tonight, standing in the back. He comes to the showcase every month, without fail."

"Weird." Robbie didn't give much more thought to Zoey's creepy professor story, however, as her phone buzzed again.

Her chest was seized by a sudden guilt. Or was that her anxiety? Either way, her breaths became shallow and short.

_What if something really did happen to Scott to stop him from coming?_

_I judged him so quickly. Ugh, I can be such a bitch sometimes._

_He needs me._

"Well," Robbie clumsily gathered her belongings from the bar. "Good talking to you, Zoey."

"You're leaving already? It's not even 10pm!"

"Yeah, I just... I'll see you around, okay?"

Robbie sped down the stairs and out the door of the bar, tapping an address into Uber as she tugged her thin canvas jacket on and swung her backpack over her shoulders.

Leaning against the entrance of the bar, she began checking her face in her phone camera.

Eyeliner smudged just a little around her grey eyes. Cheeks stung pink from the cold, or the night's embarrassment, or both. Foundation settled into the dry patch of skin on her cheek.

Robbie nodded at herself. _I look pretty good, all things considered._

She tried not to be one for self-pity, after all. "Fake it 'til you make it," her mom had always told her, but... Well. Her mom had always told her a lot of things.

Then, Robbie felt the door swing open directly behind her.

"Oh, sorry." Moving out of the way, she gave the man a small, but tired, laugh. "Didn't see you there."

He didn't say anything at all in return, instead flashing Robbie an awkward, tight-lipped smile as he side-stepped past her.

Although the Autumn sky was rapidly darkening into a late grey evening, Robbie recognized the man's suit jacket and high-necked sweater. He'd been one of the older audience members at the back of the crowd for her performance.

 _No wonder he's being so awkward_ , She thought, watching him as he stiffly walked down the road and away from the bar. _Who wouldn't be awkward around me after watching that trainwreck?_

An unfamiliar voice tore her from her self pity. "Uber for Robin?"

She began tapping away.

She'd give him one last, last chance.


	2. In a Crowd of Thousands

**Yes, he made himself seen,**   
**In that crowd of thousands.**

**\- 'In a Crowd of Thousands', Anastasia**

**xx.xx**

"Good morning, gorgeous! Or should I say good afternoon? How are you feeling?"

A blurry face appeared above Robbie's own, and she groaned. Her eyes strained and ached as Finn slowly and painfully came into focus. His auburn curls stuck closely to his head, clearly wet from a recent shower, and his bronze-rimmed specs were misted by the two steaming cups of coffee in his hands.

"...I'mdying _._ "

"That bad, huh?"

"Yuh huh." She struggled to pull herself upright, rubbing her temples and cursing out her throbbing head. "Ugh, fuck."

"I'm not surprised - you were really going for it last night. Dan and I basically had to pull you out of the bar, you were _loving life_." Finn slumped himself down onto the sofa next to her and handed her a mug. Robbie took a sip, wincing at the strength.

"Me, _enjoying_ being alive? Makes a change," she smirked, and Finn rolled his eyes: their usual routine. "Honestly Finn, after last Saturday I thought I'd never have fun again."

"I may be the actor, but _you're_ the drama queen. I'm sure that it wasn't that bad, I bet you're a good comedian!"

Robbie shot her friend a death glare, the severeness of which was emphasized by the deep purple bags under her eyes. "You weren't there! Zoey literally came up to me when I'd finished to tell me how bad it was!"

Finn crossed his arms. "Two things: firstly, you know I really would have loved to be there, but--"

"I'm just joking, I know you had rehearsal."

"And secondly, you should just ignore Zoey; she's a dick. Not to mention, she should've been at rehearsal with me rather than performing that night, so..."

"That's three things, Finn."

He grinned and shrugged. "I gave you a bonus reason to feel better! She's gonna be under rehearsed and her _Turn Back O Man_ is gonna be pitchy as shit!"

The two of them burst into a fit of giggles as Robbie did her best to combat the wave of nausea pounding at her chest. She took another sip of coffee and felt them subside just a little. "Of course, it's opening night tonight! How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling good! I'm excited to finally get to act in a musical."

"And I'm very excited to see it." Robbie nestled her head into her friend's shoulder and he gave her a hug.

She sighed. At the end of the day, she would do anything for Finn: they'd been each other's shoulder to cry on time and again throughout their years of friendship, always on hand with beers and gossip and a bad movie to get the pair through their collective boy troubles. Of course, Finn had less boy drama since meeting his boyfriend Danny, but Robbie's dating woes persisted.

"By the way - did you wanna go for food afterwards? The cast are gonna grab some pizza."

Robbie sunk lower into the plump couch, the thought of food positively blissful in her hungover state. "Oh my god, that'd be great. Thanks for letting me crash here by the way."

"You know you're always welcome. I do have to be at the theatre soon though - you want me to drive you to your place?"

"It's okay, I can walk!"

"Sweetie..." Finn raised an eyebrow and gestured to her outfit.

Looking down at her makeup-and-beer-stained crop top and skirt, Robbie winced. "On second thoughts, that'd be great, thanks."

~~~~~

Shower, scrub, shave. 

Dress, sweater, boots.

Mascara, eyeliner, brows. No time for a full face.

A painkiller for her hungover headache and out the door.

And then she waited.

A steady stream of audience members passed by as she waited in the foyer, and Robbie couldn't help but smile at their excited chatter. Whenever the musical theatre club put on a show, it seemed the whole town showed up to support them.

Robin liked musicals just fine. She didn't classify herself as an _obsessive_ fan, but she had always been drawn to the theatre and may have even had one or two cast albums downloaded on her phone... not that she'd admit it. To her, watching a musical was a perfectly good way to spend an evening, and although she had even considered auditioning once or twice, her disastrous attempts at acting as a teenager were still enough to deter her as a 25-year-old-woman.

The safest place for her, she had decided, was _behind_ the stage: she would be a technician, a stage manager, maybe even a director or writer.

 _Except you wrote and directed your own stand up set last week, and look how that went._ She dismissed the thought with a nervous laugh and checked her phone.

7:25 pm, and Scott was nowhere to be seen. The show was starting in ten minutes, and the foyer had grown quieter and quieter as the audience had begun to take their seats en masse.

She reread her ticket as she wandered into the auditorium, taking particular notice of the smudged handwriting near the bottom: a stark contrast to the rest of the glossy printed piece of paper. "Guest of Finn Lewis".

She hadn't time to wonder why that was relevant as the thought was soon interrupted by a handsome young man in a blue waistcoat and shiny black tie. "Excuse me ma'am, may I take a look at that ticket please?"

"Oh yeah, thank you."

His eyes flickered over it briefly before he handed it back to Robbie, beaming what she could only imagine was his best 'customer service' smile. "Looks like you've been upgraded to Row H! As it's opening night, we've saved the best seats in the house for guests of the cast and crew."

She followed him down to the front of the audience, and Robbie scanned the surrounding seats for people she recognized - she spotted Danny, some of Finn's friends, a couple of the drama students she had met at the talent showcase, and then...

An older man dressed smartly in a tweed jacket and black button-up shirt. As she walked closer, however, Robbie noticed that his face was as bright and dewy as any of the 20-something theatre kids around him, and although his hair was a soft silver, it showed none of the wiry dullness that sometimes comes with age.

Although the man's hard-to-age appearance was striking, Robbie felt something else pull her attention toward him, but she couldn't quite put her finger on the feeling. A vague recollection of that face, perhaps.

His eyes glanced up from his playbill, finding Robbie's. Her own glimmer of recognition was mirrored in them, and he smiled politely.

"That's your seat right in the middle, ma'am." The young man in the waistcoat gestured towards it. "Just next to the gentleman in the suit jacket."

They had to have seen each other before. But where?

With 2.5 hours sat next to him, Robbie was about to find out.

"Thank you," She smiled.

"You're welcome. We hope you have a wonderful night at the Starlight Theatre."


	3. By My Side

**And when we both have had enough**

**I will take him from my shoe, singing**

**"Meet your new road!"**

**Finally glad**

**That I am here**

**By your side**.

**\- By My Side, Godspell**

**xx.xx**

_Why is he looking at me that way?_

_He keeps giving me side eye. I don't smell bad._

_Is it because I smell good?_

_He's oddly familiar though..._

_And how old is this guy? Who goes grey before they get any wrinkles?_

_Why am I obsessing over this?_

**_Where is Scott?_ **

Robbie's mind - as Robbie's mind tended to do - quietly raced with a multitude of anxious questions.

She had been sat in her seat for what had probably only been a minute or two, yet the awkward tension had made it feel like ten. Awkwardness which, she would be the first to admit, was only exacerbated by the fact that she and the older man sat beside her were clearly trying to catch glimpses of each other's faces. She squirmed, sinking a little lower into the soft red velvet cushion.

Their mutual hesitation to speak to each other hung in the air like smog. And then, cutting through that dense mist--

"Excited for the show?"

His voice was at once deep and masculine, lilting and theatrical: it took her by surprise.

" _Oh_ \- uhh, yeah." She turned to look at him, looking at his face up-close for the first time. He was as striking as he had been at a distance - youthful yet distinguished, non-classically handsome. She met his pale blue gaze and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he gave her a genuine smile.

"Me too. Godspell is a beautiful musical - I'm not religious by any stretch of the imagination, but those harmonies... They could almost convert me." He chuckled, and he sounded giddy. Despite her anxieties, Robbie couldn't help but be charmed a little by his near-childlike glee.

"Well... I've got to admit I don't know anything about the show, but my friend is in it." Breaking her gaze away from his - admittedly very pretty - eyes, she began fidgeting with her phone. The show would be starting any second and her date was still nowhere to be seen. "It's his first musical."

The man clapped his hands together. "Wonderful! Who's he playing?"

"I can't remember exactly - but he told me that I won't have to watch him get crucified, so I'm guessing it won't be Jesus."

He laughed once more, and Robbie sensed that glimmer of recognition again - she was sure that he, too, could sense that they had met somewhere before.

"Sorry, but I've got to ask, do I know you from somewh..."

She trailed off as the house lights dimmed, and the first few notes of the overture soared into the air.

Her question would have to wait, and Scott would have some explaining to do.

~~~~~~~

"Sir, you've missed the latecomers' entry point. If you want to watch the show then I'm afraid you're going to have to wait until the interval. _Sir_..."

The unmistakable sound of an usher trying to control an unruly patron - as agonizingly quietly yet firmly as he could - drew closer and closer to Robbie's row of seats.

The friendly older man by her side turned to the source of the noise, his brow furrowed, clearly incensed at having his immersion interrupted.

"You didn't wait for me. Why?"

Scott had arrived at last, 30 minutes into the show. He spoke to Robbie paying no regard to anybody around him, his voice ringing loud and clear over the hushed audience.

Her face burned red - whether it was with embarrassment or anger she wasn't sure, but she was certain that she did not want to see him.

"Well?"

She didn't say anything, silently pleading that he would just sit down and stop, which, after a few moments, he did. Tension radiated from him, and she knew that she'd be in for an argument as soon as the interval began.

She felt a light tap on her forearm - the kindly older man raised his eyebrows at Robbie ever so slightly, smiling just a little. The universal, silent gesture for "Hey, are you okay?"

She nodded hastily and turned from his kind eyes, instead focusing on the show, regulating her breathing and trying her best not to panic or cry. She wasn't in the wrong this time - and she'd let Scott have a piece of her mind.

~~~~~~

The curtain swept across the stage, and foreboding swept across Robbie. Act One was over, and whilst she had loved watching Finn perform, she couldn't help but feel that it had been soured by Scott's attitude. His stubbornness, hostility, impatience... it all seemed to radiate from him in such an amount that she could feel the heat of it on her skin.

"So, are we gonna talk about how rude you were when you came in, or what? I was so embarrassed."

He refused to look at her, crossing his arms and glancing away.

"Fine. Be that way. I'm going to the bar to get a drink." Robbie scoffed, grabbing her bag and rising to her feet.

"Get me a beer." He continued to look away, starting to pout like a child denied candy.

"Are you _serious_?"

"I figure it's the least you can do to apologize, considering you weren't even patient enough to wait for me, _like we agreed_."

"Jesus Christ, Scott, you are so--" Robbie stopped short, knowing that she would be launching into a full-blown shouting match if she went any further. The kind, older gentleman at her side was politely pretending to mind his own business by reading his playbill for the fourteenth time.

_It's just not worth it. You're making a scene. Just apologize and move on or you'll never hear the end of it._

"You know what? Never mind. What kind of beer do you want?"

"I've changed my mind." Scott sighed, glancing upward at her now with the weary disapproval of a parent. "I want to go home."

Robbie thought of Finn; how excited he was for her to finally see him perform. She imagined him looking for her during Act Two and the curtain call: his disappointment upon seeing she was gone. "But the show isn't finished yet. And Finn asked us out for dinner, I thought maybe it would be fun."

"Well, you thought wrong. I'm not enjoying the show and honestly dinner with its cast sounds worse. I don't wanna be seen around _this_." He spat the word ' _this'_ as if it were poison.

Robbie raised an eyebrow. "What are you getting at?"

Scott frowned and shrugged. "It's all just so... flouncy. It's _gay_."

Robbie knew Scott could be an inattentive, forgetful asshole but she had always tried to see the best in him. Sure, he was rough around the edges, but she thought she was breaking through his tough exterior: now and again he'd say something really sweet... and well, when a person has low self-esteem, they cling on to those scraps of kindness.

In this moment though, the delusion of his supposed kindness melted away, and she saw him for what he was: a complete and utter dick.

"And what's wrong with something being gay?"

"Nothing, I just.... like... don't want to be around that kind of thing."

"Excuse me..." A soft, lilting voice behind Robbie was the only thing that stopped her from bursting into tears of frustration. The older man looked up at her, smiling, a mischievous glint in his eye. _Don't worry_ , his smirk seemed to say, _I've got this covered_.

"Stay out of this," Scott snapped, but the older man just chuckled.

"Oh, I don't want to interrupt your conversation, it's none of my business. I just had to say..." He turned to Robbie again, and that mischievous grin brought her a surprising level of ease. "You look very familiar and all evening I've been trying to work out where I've seen you before. You were at the showcase, weren't you?"

"Um... yeah?"

He smiled more warmly, more genuinely. "I saw you perform the other night. You're good. You seem nice, too. So... why on Earth are you still hanging around with this homophobic piece of shit?"

Scott began to splutter out an explanation, but the older man continued. "Oh, let me guess - you're one of the shitty dates she was joking about in her set?" Scott started at him, incredulously. "Yes, my friend, she was making fun of you, and I dare say you deserved every jab. Might I suggest that you leave her alone to enjoy the rest of the show?"

Robbie couldn't believe the absolute grilling that this stranger had given Scott - as her mind whirred slowly into action, piecing together all the info that had just been dumped into it, she was vaguely aware of her date gathering his things and muttering a dejected, "I'll text you later," before leaving.

She was barely even aware of the fact that she was still stood up, purse in hand, ready to go to the bar for drinks.

"Why don't you put that away," remarked the older man, rising to his feet and gesturing to her purse. "I think I owe you a drink after effectively dumping your boyfriend for you."

Robbie blinked. Although she felt shocked, the reality was setting in: Scott had been an asshole. She had backed down. This stranger had stood up to him, and now Scott was gone. Maybe for _good_.

...And she felt relieved.

So, so relieved.

"Um... okay. Yeah. A vodka coke, please."

"Single or double?"

"Just a single."

"I'll make sure it's a double." The older man grinned and began sauntering down the aisle. "Maybe a triple, if they serve them."

Amidst her haze of confusion, Robbie followed him in his swift procession down the aisle, and had only one question to ask: "Hey - did you actually enjoy my stuff?"

"Not really my area of expertise, _but_ , I did find you enjoyable." He scanned her face, seemingly trying to recall a memory - then, that spark of recognition returned. "You're called Robbie, aren't you?"

She was strangely taken aback by the sound of her name in his voice. "Yeah."

"Well it's nice to meet you properly, Robbie. I'm Professor Hidgens. Now - how about that drink?"


	4. Forget About the Boy

_**No canary in a cage for me  
** _ _**This canary's ready to fly free** _

_**And in the moonlight** _

_**Don't you think about him** _

_**Sister, you're much better off without him** _

_**For when he comes crawlin'** _

_**I'm not fallin'** _

_\- "Forget About The Boy", Thoroughly Modern Millie_

**xx.xx**

"Shit, that's strong." The vodka seemed to singe Robbie's throat on the way down; she winced at the burning sensation, took another gulp and slammed her tumbler down on the bar so hard that it threatened to spill over.

Hidgens chuckled, taking a sip of wine and placing the glass down - ever so gracefully - next to hers. "You're welcome."

"Yeah, sorry - I mean, thank you. It was really kind of you to get me a drink..." She took another quick gulp and grunted. "But honestly, you shouldn't have. I'm fine."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I mean sure — it was a bit of a shock, and I- I've got some stuff to deal with now, but-- But honestly, it's really no big deal, so-"

"Robbie, you've accidentally downed your drink."

She looked down at the now-empty tumbler. "Oh yeah."

"Here." The professor took it from her and handed it gingerly to the bartender, beginning to mumble an instruction to him; Robbie couldn't hear him over the sound of her mind desperately, wildly attempting to digest her emotions. 

For just over a couple of months now, she had desperately tried to get through Scott's hard, cold exterior. She'd thought she'd caught a glimmer or two of a sweet, softer soul within - usually, he would do something wrong, like stand her up, insult her in front of friends, make a scene in public... and then he would be _so_ sweet afterwards that she forgave him immediately. He'd claim that he was just, "Really overwhelmed by all his feelings for her," or that she was "Actually really pretty," and her resistance would melt into an apology of her own.

Robbie glanced down at her phone.

Now the the alcohol was beginning to course through her veins, the thought of Scott and his texts threatened to turn Robbie's stomach. Everything in her head clashed: she was pissed off at herself for missing the red flags. She was thankful for this stranger's intervention, but resented the fact that he'd pushed her so far outside of her usual routine of forgiveness.

The professor turned back around to her, and gave her a small, sympathetic smile. "Now listen: I'm sorry that I interrupted your date, especially seeing as I don't know you. It was pretty damn rude of me. I'm sure you're more than capable of defending yourself and the last thing I wanted to do was cause you trouble, but I heard you talk about your problems with men at the showcase, and I saw a bad situation, and I just couldn't let it happ--"

"Don't worry about it, Professor," she interrupted pointedly, and switched her phone off. "Out of interest - how _do_ you remember my name?"

He seemed somewhat taken aback by her interjection , but Robbie sensed that he understood her desire to change the topic. "Well," he began gently, "I remember thinking that it was a rather unusual name for a rather unusual performer."

Robbie snorted. "Unusual?"

"You see..." he paused, clearly attempted to find the right words. "It was the first stand up set I've seen at a showcase like that, and you're the first woman named 'Robbie' I've ever heard of."

"Good save." Another drink was placed in front of her. She sniffed it tentatively, and the professor laughed.

"It's just water. I only wanted to calm your nerves, not to get you drunk, which seems to be the way you're going."

_Ugh. This is all so embarrassing._

"Oh... sorry." She took a sip, and they sat in silence for a moment. "Yeah, Robbie is kinda just a nickname. It's short for Robin."

"Like the songbird?" His genuine warmth was disarming.

"Uh, yeah, I guess so." Robbie found herself smiling - a genuine smile that made her tired grey eyes crinkled around the corners - despite the burning intense confusion she felt about the evening's events.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," a smooth, clipped, female voice crackled over the intercom. "Ladies and Gentlemen, please return to your seats. This evening's performance of Godspell will resume in five minutes."

The two near-strangers made their way back to their seats. "Hey, about..." She gestured toward the empty chair next to her, as they sat back down. "You honestly didn't have to do that. I'm honestly fine; I honestly don't even care about him, I--"

The professor interrupted her babbling. "You say 'honestly' a lot, Robin. It might lead some to think you're not actually being honest about the whole 'not caring' thing. Just... try to forget about it, just for now. Try to enjoy the show." Robbie stopped herself from retaliating; she knew he was right: she felt a pang of guilty relief that she wouldn't have to be sat next to Scott for the rest of the show. She could relax, even if it was just for the next hour or so.

He picked up his playbill again and began to browse it for what must have been the seventeenth time. " _So -_ which cast member is your friend?"

"Finn."

"Ah, he's very talented! I was invited by Zoey - you know her I think, she performed at the showcase with you."

"Oh yeah, she's really good." Robbie may have had run-ins with the girl, but she didn't like to talk trash about other women - besides, it was true. Zoey _was_ a great performer.

Something at the back of Robbie's mind - a vague memory - resonated suddenly. She thought back to the night of the showcase. 

_What was it that Zoey told me again?_

_"I'm basically being stalked ... This weirdo professor, he teaches science or something ... Whenever I'm performing, he always shows up without being asked... He's a total hermit, he doesn't even leave his house to teach classes, he does it all online. But he was here tonight, standing in the back."_

_...Oh shit, am I sat next to a stalker_ _?_

"So, Zoey invited you, huh?"

The professor smiled. "Oh, yes, she invites me to all of the musical theatre club's performances." He flashed her his ticket, and Zoey's name was written on it, just as Finn's had been written on Robbie's. "To tell you the truth, as much as I _love_ the theatre, I don't get out much nowadays. I only come if I'm invited, otherwise I find the whole _leaving the house_ thing a bit too..." He swallowed, catching his breath. Robbie noted a small, barely contained flash of panic. 

He took a deep breath and continued. "So... Zoey tends to make a point of inviting me to performances, just to give me the push I need to leave the house. She's a sweet girl."

"Sweet girl indeed," Robbie mumbled. 

The man's sweet demeanor, the fact that he had defended a stranger so readily, his infectious enthusiasm for the theatre, not to mention the fact that _there was evidence that Zoey had invited him_ \- it all led Robbie to believe that Zoey had fabricated the whole 'weirdo professor' narrative for attention, or drama, or _something_.

She hated to suspect someone of lying about something like that - after all, it brought genuine claims of harassment into question - but Robbie had seen enough manipulative behavior to know what it looked like.

The house lights fell immediately to darkness.

"Oh, it's _starting_! Enjoy Act Two, Robin - speak to you afterwards!"

The professor clapped his hands together, clearly rapt by the rush of music and lights, and Robbie shifted in her chair as Zoey strode onto the stage. Was she really spreading false rumors about this kind old guy? 

_Well,_ Robbie thought, _If he stood up for me, then I guess I better stand up for him._


	5. Bad Idea

**Let's face it,**  
**Making mistakes like this will make worse what was already pretty bad**  
**Mind, stop running**  
**It's time we just let this thing go**  
**It was a pretty good bad idea, wasn't it though?**

\- _"Bad Idea"_ , Waitress

**xx.xx**

"Excuse me - can I get your autograph?"

"Oh _stop_." Finn threw his arms around Robbie, picking her up and twirling her around as she cackled in delight.

"Did you like it?" He stood in front of her, panting and sweaty, stage makeup and residue from his mic tape still plastered onto his beaming face.

_God, I'm so proud of him._

"I _loved_ it!"

"Awesome - one show down, six to go!" He turned from her for a second, and his brow furrowed. "Hey, where's Scott? Too cool to come to stage door, huh?"

Robbie resisted the sudden, violent urge to check her phone for more texts. "He left at the interval."

"I see." Finn's tone was flat and curt. Robbie instantly recognised it as disapproval. He had never liked Scott. Sure, he'd been polite about it, but when he suggested to Robbie that maybe he wasn't a great guy she had ignored his warnings.

"It's a long story... Scott said some horrible shit that I don't want to repeat, we had a fight and then he left. But I think that might be _it_." She choked the last part out; it felt like she had swallowed a chip sideways, scraping all the way down her throat.

"As in...?"

"Yeah." She croaked.

 _We've stopped seeing each other:_ She completed the sentence in her head. She didn't need to say it; Finn understood her body language crystal clear, in the way that only the closest of friends can.

"Oh, Robbie, I'm sorry." He stepped toward her for a comforting hug but she lunged out of the way, laughing slightly too hard for it to be real.

"I'm fine! I'm honestly fine. It wasn't like he was my _boyfriend_ or anything." Scott had insisted on telling her almost every other day that he didn't want anything serious, after all. He wanted to keep it casual; that didn't stop him from constantly asking her where she was, or getting angry when she hung out with her male friends.

 _God, he must be_ _so_ _pissed off about Hidgens,_ she thought.

It worried and thrilled her in equal measure.

Finn knew her far too well, and she would definitely not admit how hurt she was anytime soon. Robbie always needed everyone to think that she was okay - even when it was obvious that it wasn't the truth.

"Alright... I'll not mention it again on one condition: You're still coming out for dinner with me and the cast tonight. Then, when you're ready to talk, we'll have a big movie night and get take out and have a big gossip session. Deal?"

"Deal." Finn held out his pinky finger, which Robbie naturally linked with her own. "Oh!" she suddenly exclaimed, pulling away from him.

"What is it? You're not going back on our pinky promise, are you? Because that's a legally binding contract; I'll sue."

" _No_ -" Robbie stepped closer, hoping not to be heard by anyone else lingering around the theater's stage door. "Did Zoey mention anything about a creepy stalker professor?"

Finn's eyes narrowed. "...Yeah, why?"

"She mentioned him at the showcase. Professor Hidgens, right?"

"Yeah, that's the guy. She was telling us backstage that he always goes to shows to see her perform, even though he's a total recluse. Pretty weird."

Robbie leaned further into her best friend, practically whispering now. "You're not gonna believe this... I was sat next to him for the whole show."

Finn's face scrunched up, and he scowled. "Ew, _gross_. You've really not had a good evening, have you?"

"No, it's not like that. Listen... Hidgens doesn't seem like the type of guy that would stalk _anybody_. He seems totally harmless."

" _Robbie_ ," Finn groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Creepy guys always seem nice at first. That's how they get ya."

"He called Scott an asshole, and then bought me a drink."

"...Professor Hidgens did _what_ now?"

"We were both sat in the section for guests of the cast. I saw his ticket. Zoey _invited_ him and apparently she's been inviting him to stuff for ages! He thinks she's just being kind."

"Oh shit, that's so weird." Finn crossed his arms, frowning. "Why do you think she's lying?"

"I dunno. Attention maybe? To stir up drama?"

Finn gasped, his eyes widening. "Zoey? Stirring up drama and attention-seeking?" He pushed every syllable to the extremes of sarcasm. _"Never!"_

"Yeah, exactly. And if she's lying, his whole career could be in trouble, she's a student after all, and--"

"Shh." Finn's focus drifted away from Robbie's face, his gaze settling on the road behind her. "What does Hidgens look like?"

"Well..." Robbie thought of the man's kind, ageless face and felt a vague pang of sadness as she remembered how he had left immediately after the show.

____

"I'm going to go straight home, Robin," He had told her, shaking her hand at the end of the bows. "But please do congratulate the cast for me. Tell Finn that his debut was superb."

"I'm going to wait for him at stage door, if you wanted to come and congratulate them yourself."

He had laughed quietly, looking down at his feet. "Oh, no. No, I wouldn't want to cramp your style. I've already had too much of an impact on your evening. I hope everything turns out okay."

And then he had left, quietly and without fuss, leaving Robbie with a strange, sad knot in her stomach over this man who was being accused of being up to no good. He was so gentle, kind, enthusiastic... the thought of somebody stirring up vicious rumors about him made her blood boil.

____

Finn snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Earth to Robbie. Hello. I asked you what he looks like. Quickly!"

Robbie shook away the memory. "Sorry, I'm just trying to remember - ummmm, he has grey hair, but it looks super soft . And he's _really_ hard to age. Like he could be 30, he could be 50; he has no wrinkles but there's something that seems _older_ about him. Very blue eyes. He's-- he's actually kind of handsome, but he's not _classically_ handsome, and his voice is really dramatic and--"

Finn cocked his head as if he were a confused puppy. "Okay, there's a lot to unpack there but..." He took Robbie by the shoulders, turning her 180 degrees. "Is that him?"

Robbie clocked him instantly. He stood a little way down the road, hugging his suit jacket around himself, his arms awkwardly tangled around his torso trying to keep himself warm.

"Oh shit, yeah." She watched for a moment as he peered down the road, seemingly waiting for a car.

Finn nudged her towards him. "Invite him out for dinner."

Robbie whipped back around. "What, ask him to come to the cast dinner?"

He scoffed. " _No_ , you should ask him out on a _date_. Of course I meant the cast dinner! We could find out if those rumors are true or not. Either he gets his name cleared and everyone finds out Zoey is lying, or we realize that he really is a creep and that we should tell somebody about what he's doing. It's win-win!"

"No, Finn, that's a bad idea. If the rumors are true, that's Zoey's choice to make. Besides, he seemed pretty keen to get back home. He was nervous. Earlier he said it takes a lot for him to leave the house. He thought that was why she was inviting him to things, to encourage him to be social. I don't want to bother him, we shouldn't--"

 _"_ ** _Hey!_** _"_ Finn shouted out, waving in the air. **_"Professor Hidgens! Over here!"_**

"What are you doing?" Robbie hissed, as the man in the distance looked up, smiled, took one last look down the road and began to approach them.

Finn tried to stifle his laughter, but began giggling like a naughty schoolboy. "Stirring up drama, as usual. I wanna get to the bottom of this."

"Hello," Hidgens reached their spot just outside the stage door, and took Finn's hand, shaking it warmly with a smile, although Robbie detected a slight waver in his voice. Anxiety, perhaps? "Fantastic performance, really!"

"Aw, thank you!" Finn's voice had become so falsely, syrupy sweet that Robbie was sure it would give all of them diabetes, but Hidgens didn't seem to notice, or care. "Sorry for calling you over here, Professor, but Robbie was just telling me all about you. Weren't you, Robbie?"

She felt her pale cheeks burn bright red with embarrassment. Finn loved to put her in little awkward situations like this in order to tease her. It was one of the occupational hazards of being as close as siblings; to be fair, she loved doing it right back.

"Y-yeah." She stammered, "I was just telling Finn about what happened this evening."

"You called her boyfriend an asshole, right?"

Hidgens' brow furrowed and he shook his head. "Uhhh... Yes. Yes, I did." He looked up at Robbie, and she saw his semi-pained expression. "Honestly, the more I think about it, the worse I feel about interfering with your business, Robin--"

"Don't apologize," she cut him off, hand hovering in the space between them, tempted to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. He trailed off, his apology still on his lips.

"Listen, Professor," Finn began, in a tone slightly more gentle than the one with which he had started. "The whole cast are going out for dinner tonight; Robbie's coming too. Would you like to tag along?"

"Well I'm glad you're going to have a nice time, Robin, you deserve some fun with friends after the evening you've had. And thank you, but I couldn't possibly. Papers to mark, lectures to record... You know how it is. I'm sorry. Besides, let's be honest. I've already made your night worse. I'm sorry, I fucked up." Although she had heard him swear at Scott earlier, Robbie still found the curse word somewhat amusing; his dramatic voice seemed better suited to Shakespeare than to profanity.

But then, as he began to say goodbye, that vague sadness returned to her. Tonight, this man had found a near-complete stranger. Robbie had been visibly anxious; he had opened up the conversation and when he saw her being bullied, he'd stopped it without question despite being an obviously anxious person himself. He admitted that he rarely even left the house, for goodness' sake.

Robbie didn't know what was in her future with Scott; her already complex web of feelings about the boy had just been tangled even further by the night's events. But she _did_ know that Hidgens had put aside his own obvious worries to help her, and whatever would come in the following few days, tonight she could push everything to the back of her mind and enjoy a night of celebration with her friend because he had helped her.

And where was he headed now, this professor? Home to mark papers? Alone? Apparently he was a recluse, but did he live with other people? When would he be able to leave the house next? When had been the last time he had received a genuine invitation? Because as far as she could tell, Zoey's couldn't be counted as genuine.

When was the last time he had made a real friend?

The thoughts rushed through her head in a split second, and then, just as he was about to make his excuses and leave: "Professor, you haven't ruined my night."

"Oh, but-"

"You _haven't_. And you should come to dinner with us! If you're busy then no pressure, but if you do, it's my treat."

Hidgens haltered a little, clearly unsure of what to say. "Well..." he cleared his throat, shuffling. "What the hell, why not!"

"Yeah, fuck the students!" Finn cheered, clearly having already had a drink or two backstage. Robbie snorted - although for a moment there, she'd almost forgotten Finn was standing next to her. Why was she so drawn to helping this man?

Professor Hidgens smiled. "There's always more time to grade papers. But I'm _not_ letting you pay for me." He turned to Finn. "I was just waiting for a cab - you two can come with me; I think this is him now."

"I thought you said inviting him to dinner was a bad idea?" Finn whispered as they followed Hidgens as he sauntered over to the sidewalk, hailing a taxi.

"I did, but now I don't know. There's something about him that seems sad. I thought it'd be nice for him."

"Well, at least my Zoey plan will work out now!" And with that, Finn ducked into the car.

_Oh yeah, that._


	6. You Never Know

**And odds are I would do what most men do**   
**And hurt you too, 'cause men are men and odds are odds**   
**Although, you never know**

**- _You Never Know_ , 'If/Then'**

**xx.xx**

"Let me propose a toast," Finn stood, pulling his napkin from his collar and tapping his knife on the side of his plastic tumbler. "To our opening night being a roaring success!"

Everyone else who had been eating in the pizza place at the time turned to look at the table of boisterous theatre kids, throwing their arms and cups into the air and cheering at a near-deafening volume.

Robbie was used to hanging out with one or two theatre students at a time, but wasn't quite accustomed to the incredibly enthusiastic pack mentality that actors, singers, dancers and other creatives break into following a successful show.

Nonetheless, she joined in with the toast. Their attitude was more than a little infectious, after all. "Well done everybody," she yelled, although she expected that her congratulations had gone unheard - her voice simply joined the cacophony of others.

"Ready to order, folks?" The waiter hovered impatiently to the side, clearly anxious to get the loud group their food as soon as possible. Being the only two that hadn't just performed a show (besides Danny, Finn's boyfriend, who remained enthusiastically by his side), Robbie and Professor Hidgens had opted to sit opposite each other at the far end of the table.

"Yes thank you, could I get the..." Robbie squinted at the menu, pretending that she didn't order the exact same thing every time. "Cheese pizza, please."

The waiter scribbled it down on his notepad. "Awesome, anything else?"

"Extra cheese, thanks."

"Sure. And for you, sir?"

Hidgens lowered his menu. "I'll... Have the same."

The waiter moved down the table, and Hidgens smirked. "A plain cheese pizza with extra cheese?"

"What can I say? Cheese is the ultimate comfort food." She took a sip of her drink. "Besides, why are you teasing me? You ordered the same."

"True. I panicked."

"I do that all the time when ordering food, but when it comes to pizza, I don't fuck around." Robbie glanced down the table. Zoey hadn't arrived yet; what would happen when she did?

Would she cause a massive scene, embarrassing the professor? She had, after all, told the entire cast that he'd been stalking her. None of them seemed to know that he was the man Zoey had accused of being a creep - they had all been pleasant with him, discussing his thoughts on the show and on theatre in general.

It might have been that she wanted to fixate on anything other than Scott, but Robbie found herself growing more and more fond of the Professor as the evening progressed. She identified with his nervous fidgeting and laughter; whilst he was clearly out of his comfort zone, she worried about the bombardment of texts she'd be sure to receive as soon as she turned her phone back on.

At one moment, in-between slices of her extraordinarily cheesy meal, Robbie picked her phone up, thumb hovering over the power button, and then--

" _So_ _Robin_ ," Hidgens' eyes flickered towards the phone and then focused on her own. "How did you meet Finn?"

She gingerly set the phone down onto the table. "We went to high school together. When I was a freshman I tried auditioning for one of the musicals, but uhh..." She took a long sip of her soda. "That didn't work out. Finn was always around the drama department, so I guess we must've just started talking. It's so long ago; we've been friends for over ten years now. Honestly, I only chose to go to community college in Hatchetfield because I knew Finn was doing his actor training here."

"That must be nice," he smiled, but Robbie sensed the vague loneliness she had seen in him earlier. "So, if high school was 10 years ago for you, you must be a grad student too?"

"Nope, I'm still an undergrad." Robbie gulped down a mouthful of what was mostly molten cheese. "I dropped out of college the first time around. This is a do-over. Nearly there now, though, just two more years." Hidgens raised an eyebrow, but Robbie hastened to continue: her evening had been difficult enough, she didn't want to go into her past. "I'm an English major."

"Ah, then I'm afraid our paths likely won't cross on campus. That is, unless you decide to minor in biology."

Robbie snorted, and her mind drifted toward Scott again. This man, a near-stranger, had treated her with more kindness than Scott had in months of dating. "Anything's possible. You never know."

_"I'm here!"_

A familiar voice pulled the attention of everyone at the table towards the door, where a young woman in immaculate dress and makeup stood holding a bouquet of red flowers: Zoey.

She stood, grinning, as if expecting the whole restaurant to cheer for her. The Godspell cast gave a half-hearted round of applause, murmuring among themselves. She sashayed over to the end of the table, stopping short as her gaze fell onto the Professor.

"I-I-Uh--" She spluttered. "What are you doing here?"

The Professor grinned and stood up, taking her hand and giving it a respectable shake. "Well, I didn't want to let you down! You've been so kind ever since you sent me that email, inviting me along to things. You were really rather good this evening, but do be mindful of the key; you were ever so slightly pitchy during Turn Back O Man."

Zoey merely blinked at him, incredulously, before turning to the cast. "...Who let _him_ come along? You guys know that this is the guy, right?"

Hidgens' smile fell, and Robbie's stomach flipped.

Oh God, this is going to be awkward.

"What do you mean, I'm 'the guy'?" Hidgens frowned, turning to Finn. His voice fell quieter, weaker. "Have I done something wrong?"

"He's a creep!" Zoey cut in, slamming her bouquet down on the table. "I can't believe this!"

Hidgens watched the two argue across the table, his attention flicking back and forth as if he were watching a tennis match.

"Professor, you said that you were invited to see the show by Zoey, right?"

"...Yes."

"And Zoey, you say he's a creep?"

"Y-yes," she stuttered, cheeks practically glowing red. "He comes to all of my shows. That's creepy."

Robbie cleared her throat, and suddenly, the entire table's attention was now focused on her.

She squirmed in her seat, her heart beat faster, her palms instantly grew sweaty - but she had to say something.

He'd done the same for her.

"You look pretty nervous Zoey," She tried to keep her voice steady, but it warbled ever so slightly. "Is that because you know you've been rumbled? After all, I saw the Professor's ticket. He was your guest. You invited him." Zoey said nothing, and the Professor's attention had settled on Robbie, the confusion and sadness in his face beginning to soften. It spurred her on. "He just... really loves the theatre. You only have to talk to him for a couple of minutes to work that out. It's infectious, honestly." Her hands were shaking now, not with anxiety, but with adrenaline. "But for some reason you seem to be taking advantage of that. You've been inviting him to stuff for ages, apparently."

Silence.

Hidgens didn't say anything. He just remained standing, awkwardly caught between his chair and the edge of the table. Robbie felt sick; she hated confrontation and she'd had almost no break from it all evening.

"I have a question too, Zoey." Robbie didn't turn to look at Finn as he spoke - her eyes were focused upon the Professor's, trying to silently reassure him as he had done for her in the theatre. "How comes you were so late to the meal? And who got you that _lovely_ bouquet of roses?"

"I was with my mom, actually," She smiled, crossing her arms.

" _Righhhhht_ ," Finn drawled, his voice more sarcastic than Robbie had ever heard it - which was saying something. "So, you weren't with that guy you've been seeing? The police officer? What's his name again... Sam, right?"

Zoey's eyes burst open, suddenly the size of dinner plates. "I - I have _no_ idea what you mean."

"I'm sure," Finn shrugged, the corner of his mouth turning upward as he built up to his point: "I mean, I'm sure those kisses I caught you two stealing round the back of Beanies were _entirely_ platonic. After all, I'm pretty sure I've seen him out with his wife..."

"I have to go." She cast a vitriolic look at Hidgens, who slowly lowered back into his chair. "I'm _very_ sorry, Professor," she said, without an ounce of earnest apology in her voice, "I-I must have gotten you confused with someone else." She shook her head at the table of cast members with a pout, her perfectly placed hair bouncing. "I'll see you all onstage tomorrow, you bunch of... _Judases_."

And with that, she left the restaurant as soon as she had arrived.

"Ha. Judas. Like in Godspell." Robbie's attempt at making light of the situation fell on deaf ears as the group instantly started gossiping.

_"She was obviously lying about him then!"_

_"Well duh."_

_"He seems so nice."_

_"Why would she lie?"_

Robbie let the gossip wash over her, and in the wake of the confrontation it felt like ice water. She pushed away her plate; her appetite had vanished. 

"Are you okay?" Finn placed a hand on her shoulder. "I mean, we both _really_ gave it to her." He meant forward to whisper in her ear. "Angry Robbie is hot, by the way. I know I usually don't go for the ladies but..."

Robbie rolled her eyes; she loved him but was not at all in the mood for Finn's jokes. "I'm fine, I just got angry." Hidgens didn't appear to hear her, still crestfallen. "I think I should leave."

"No you shouldn't." Finn gave her shoulder a squeeze. " _I'm_ the one who called her out for dating a married cop, you just exposed her for manipulating the professor! Besides, this is a table of actors. We love a little bit of drama, especially when someone deserves it."

"Well I don't." Robbie stumbled about a little, scooping up her bag and placing a $20 on the table. "That's for me and it should cover you too, Professor. I'm so sorry for... I'll see you around." She have Finn a hug. "You were amazing tonight, I'll speak to you soon. I'm sorry."

"Robbie-" Finn called out after her but she hurried out the door.

_____

Robbie leaned against the wall of the restaurant. She had been there for about 5 minutes, just trying to calm down. Trembling, she pulled her phone from her pocket and turned it on.

  
_You should text him back. Just apologize and he'll probably be fine. This is why he doesn't want to be your actual boyfriend. He's right, you're such a—_

"Cigarette?" A deep but lilting voice interrupted her train of thought.

She fought back tears; her throat seized up and her eyes stung. The Professor had met her outside; he held her coat draped over his arm.

"No thanks," She smiled uneasily, "I quit a couple months ago."

"I quit twenty years ago," He sighed, lighting one up, "Except in the case of particularly stressful situations, which... Seem to make up most of my life, to be honest. Do you want one?"

"Please."

He handed it to her, lighting it as she bit it between her teeth. "You left this inside."

"Thanks." She took the long coat from his arm, not yet putting it on, instead clutching it in her free hand and shivering in the early autumn chill. She felt frozen. Night time had fully set in; the sky was as dark and soft as a bolt of navy velvet, studded with tiny pinpricks of starlight.

"You know," he said, taking a long drag of his cigarette. "You didn't have to stand up for me in there."

"I'm so sorry I put you on the spot. I honestly didn't want to, but..."

"Robin, stop apologizing. You haven't ruined my evening. Zoey tried to, but you helped me." He laughed, and it was almost warm enough to thaw her out. 

"Looks like we're even then, Professor Hidgens." He smiled, but something about it was ineffably lonely. "I'm sorry about Zoey. I don't know what she's up to, but you didn't deserve to be lied about."

"Well, if what Finn said about her dating a policeman is true, then all this could have been a ploy to get his attention. She took my biology class, I mention I like the theatre one time..."

"And she sees an opportunity to get his attention by throwing you under the bus." Robbie finished his sentence with a sigh. "Sounds like her, to be honest. Makes sense. Damn, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. When you're the 'kooky reclusive Professor' you get used to rumors; pranks. I won't hold that against her."

He blew a mist of smoke into the bitterly cold air and it seemed to cloud Robbie's judgement. Between the adrenaline still coursing through her veins and the openness he'd shown her, she felt like she could say anything.

"You don't seem like much of a recluse."

"When you love the theatre; you pick up a thing or two about acting. Sometimes the anxiety of leaving the house is overridden by the anxiety of letting down a friend. But I don't think that'll be a problem anymore."

"Hm?" Robbie coughed on the inhale. "Why not?"

"I don't have many friends." Another cloud of smoke. He flicked an ember away and Robbie watched it fizzle out on the frigid sidewalk. "Or _any_ friends, actually. But you know what they say - comedy equals tragedy plus time. At least tonight has given you some material."

Robbie didn't know what else to say, and in that moment of hesitation, the texts from Scott came back to her mind. She felt nauseated.

"I should go. I think I've caused enough trouble." She brought her phone back out, opening Uber.

"We both have." The professor glanced once more at her phone. "Have you got far to go?"

"No."

"Well... Get home safe, Robin." He looked her in the eye, and for the first time she imagined what he must be like in the classroom. The word "home" was pointed; stern. Strict. As if to say, You better go straight there. Not to him. You deserve better.

"I will, Professor. Thank you."

"And you should put your coat on. It's cold out here."

She did as he suggested, and they stood in silence side by side until the car pulled up.

Robbie climbed in, and as it began to drive away from the restaurant, she watched as the Professor began to make his own journey home. He wasn't waiting to go back inside. He was waiting with _her,_ in the cold.

She reached into her coat pocket, fishing for her door keys. Her hand brushed against a folded piece of paper, something that hadn't been there at the start of her evening.

A $20 bill wrapped in a napkin, which was covered in scrawling, messy handwriting. On one side, an email address. And on the other side:

___________________

Robin,

I told you that I wouldn't let you pay and I meant it.

Let me know when you're next performing. You should continue doing it. You never know what could happen.

\- Prof. Hidgens

___________________

And that night, with her phone on silent and whilst doing her absolute best not to even _look_ at her text messages, Robbie started to write again.


	7. Funny Girl

**That's me**   
**I just keep them in stitches**   
**Doubled in half**   
**And though I may be all wrong for a guy**   
**I'm good for a laugh**

**\- 'Funny Girl', _Funny Girl_**

**xx.xx**

Weeks passed, and the last few stubborn remnants of Summer in Hatchetfield withered away. Fall was in full swing now: the nights were drawing in earlier, the air began to carry the scent of fallen leaves and smoke, and change was everywhere to be seen...

Robbie spent most of those early evenings reading her course material and writing the odd one-liner. Well, not just the evenings: she loved the very early hours of the morning most of all, when she was alone with the moon and stars. Even if her eyelids grew heavy, even if her limbs grew stuff, her mind would keep whirring. A little bit of tranquility was hard to come by, but it was plentiful during those inky-dark hours.

Her desk, much like the rest of her tiny studio apartment, was cluttered with papers, books, and trash. Clothing lay strewn on the floor, dirty dishes piling up. However, on the whitewashed wall above her work-station, directly at eye-level, she had been organised enough to stick a post-it note with the best advice she had received in a while.

_"Comedy = Tragedy + Time"._

The funniest - or at least the most memorable - stories could be taken from even the most upsetting things, if you gave yourself enough time to heal.

Professor Hidgens had said it as a throwaway comment, but it had struck _such_ a chord with Robbie. He was right, and although she felt that she'd always known that somehow, his words had made it all so clear. She could take her trauma and turn it into something _positive_ ; _reclaim_ it and use those stories to her own advantage and power. After all, that's what she'd done before, and he'd said it was good, right?

Something told her he wouldn't lie about something like that. He was too earnest, too frank. Plus, his napkin-based note (which she had felt oddly obliged to keep, safely tucked away in a drawer) felt like further encouragement.

She had to let herself be vulnerable. That would let her grow stronger, and _that_ would let her shrug off her fear and laugh in their faces, laugh at _herself_. 

As those nights became colder, Scott's messages didn't stop, but became more and more intense. Still, Robbie did her absolute best to ignore that stream of aggressive texts, and she worked. 

~~~

Finn squinted at his phone with bleary eyes, the ringtone's trill as loud as a jackhammer against the silence of his room. 2:23am.

 _Robbie_.

"...Hello?" He mumbled, trying to keep his eyes open and his voice low.

"Finn!" Robbie sounded out of breath at the other end of the line.

He woke up a little more, beginning to sit upright. Danny, ever the heavy sleeper, slumbered next to him. "What's the matter? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he recognised her tone as one of giddy excitement, "I just wanted to ask you: are you free Saturday?"

Finn groaned. "You woke me up for that? Seriously? You're a little insomniac _demon,_ I swear. Go to _bed_."

Across town, in her own apartment, Robbie sipped her sixth coffee since 6pm. "Not insomnia this time, I've just been on a _roll_ with my writing. Besides, you didn't answer my question!"

Finn rubbed his eyes. "Yeah. I'm free."

Robbie did a manic little happy dance in her desk chair. "Well then, I guess I'll see you in Beanie's for their open mic night, because I'm performing!"

Despite his grouchiness at being woken up, he couldn't help but smile. Ever since that one crazy night at the Starlight theatre - since Scott had left - he had seen his friend slowly claw back some of her confidence. "Yep, I'll see you there. But for now, I've got to sleep!"

Robbie didn't answer. Instead, she stared at her computer screen, looking at an email draft.

"Hon?" Finn's voice regained her attention.

"Yeah, sorry! Good night, I'll see you soon."

"Night. I'm proud of you!"

She held the phone to her heart for a second, as if she were hugging him. She beamed, and then, bringing the phone back to her face she replied: "Ew, gross," hung up.

_Right. The email. The email. How do I word the email?_

She scrutinized the screen, poring over and over what she had already written.

_____

Dear Professor Hidgens,

How are you? I hope that you're well! Thank you for returning the $20, that was unnecessary but very kind of you.

I'd also like to thank you for your note. I really needed to hear that.

I'll be performing again at Beanies Coffee on Saturday (10th November), 7pm, if you would like to come along. It would be really nice to see you there.

Thank you again,

Robin Franks

_____

_Is this too formal? It seems so formal. Should I just put "hi" instead of "dear"? Or would that be too familiar? Is it already too friendly?_

_And what about the ending? I want to make it clear that he's welcome to come._

_I_ _t_ _would __be really nice to see him there, after all_ _. He seemed so lonely, and he gave me such nice advice._

_Fuck it. For once in your life, Robbie, don't overthink it._

_Send!_

She closed her eyes and jabbed the enter button, sending her message off into the ether.

Robbie always felt a little anxious when sending emails, but this one made her her even more on edge than usual. She wanted to make a good impression, somehow. Of course, she and Professor Hidgens had already met, but their evening at the Starlight theatre felt so surreal; it had a hazy, dreamlike quality.

She couldn't believe she had acted so bold, or that she had been so open with this man she'd just met - but he seemed to be having just as weird of a time as she had, and she _liked_ the bolder, more honest woman she had been that night. She wanted to be that woman more often.

She rose to her feet and moved across the room to her basin, brushing her teeth and tying her mane of dark hair back into a clumsy, chunky ponytail.

 _You sent that email at like 2:30am_ , her mind sneered at her, _He's going to think that's weird._

After they had defended each other that night several weeks ago, Robbie had felt a strange, sweet bond with the man. Perhaps, she thought, she could help him come out of his shell by taking over the mantle from Zoey and inviting him out to things; not to stir up controversy this time, but because he was actually welcome.

She thought of their honest talk before she had left the restaurant, off his kind eyes and straight talk, and she brushed away her anxiety. He was the kind of person that would understand the impulsive need to send a 2am email.

Just as she went to close her laptop, a small tinkling bell sound effect rang out.

_____

Dear Robin,

My goodness, your email included _three_ 'thank you's in it! You're welcome, you're welcome, and you're welcome. I'm not a man who likes being outdone, however, so: thank you thank you thank you _thank you_ for inviting me along to the cast dinner.

I will do my best to see you perform on the 10th. As I mentioned, leaving the house can be a little bit difficult for me, so if not, I wish you every success.

Really, there's no need to thank me for the money. It was _yours_ ; returning it was the least I could do.

Best wishes,

Prof. Hidgens

_____

Robbie couldn't help but grin. What a _goofball_.

She'd been right. But the Professor wasn't just able to understand the need to send an anxious, awkward email at the dead of night - he was the type to _send_ one, too.

Why was he awake? Could he not sleep? Was he working? Or did he, too, enjoy the simple peacefulness that came with staying up far too late to spend some alone time with the stars?

Whatever the answer, one truth remained: for both Robbie and the Professor, a 2am email about the theatre made complete sense.

~~~~~

"Are you Robbie?" A shorter woman asked Robbie as she stepped through the door.

She checked her watch. 6:30pm - just on time to check in. "Yep," She sighed, already a little out of breath from the adrenaline that had been building in her system quite steadily for hours now. "That's me."

The woman nodded, crossing her name off from her checklist. She was an attractive brunette, with angular, feline features. Quite frankly, she was Robbie's type, but flirting was the last thing on her mind as she watched the woman cross her off from the list. She was far more focused on how far down her name appeared on the reel of names.

"Okay, cool," She said with a sigh, looking up from the clipboard, "Well, the audience are allowed in at 7, and the show gets started at 7:30. You're performing..." She traced her pen down the running order, looking for Robbie's name. "6th."

"Great, thank you." Robbie glanced at the list again. "Out of interest... _How_ many acts are on tonight?"

"Six."

Robbie nodded, her mouth going dry. "Coooooool. Cool. Cool. So I'm the last one?"

"Yeah - you were the latest entry and it's just in order of when people apply. Would you like me to change it around? I could speak to the others for you if it's a problem, but..."

Robbie considered it: if she went on sixth, she'd be finishing the whole show. She had to be good; she didn't want to end the evening on a painfully unfunny note.

Especially not seeing as Finn was going to be here. And the Professor too, maybe.

 _No_ , she stopped herself. _You're going to be fine; stop doubting yourself._

"No thanks," she put her hands on her hips, an attempt to appear more confident. "It's all good. I'll go last."

"Nice," The woman swung her clipboard under her arm, shooting Robbie a couple of finger guns. "And don't worry, you'll be fine. After all, that means your audience will be nice and warmed up. We've even put some booze on the menu for the night - my manager thought it'd be cool to cater to the comedy crowd - so you can get a little wasted if you think it'll help with the nerves."

Robbie snorted; the woman's frankness put her at ease. "I might have to do that. Thanks," She squinted at the name tag on the girl's apron. "Emma."

After nearly half an hour of pacing around, going over her material and practicing responses to potential hecklers, the doors finally opened to allow the public inside.

Robbie sat at the bar, sipping a coffee. She would have gotten something a little stronger - Emma had asked her if she wanted to stick a little whiskey in there, which was definitely tempting - but she decided against it. She wanted to be sober tonight, clear-headed.

She had worked on her writing every night since that evening at the Starlight theatre. Maybe it was just another thing to fixate on to distract her from Scott's texts, but she didn't really care. It made her feel better.

She wanted to make Finn as proud as _he_ had made _her_ when he was in Godspell, and she had to admit that she was really excited to see Hidgens again. He'd been so helpful, and sweet, and he was kinda—

"Robin!"

She turned to see him there, her guest, walking towards her. She jumped down from her stall, grinning.

"Hi, Professor!" She held out her hand for him to shake, and he opened his arms, seemingly steeping forward for a hug. They held their positions awkwardly, hovering in their places for a moment or two, before Hidgens gave an awkward chuckle and took Robbie's hand, shaking it with enthusiasm.

She looked at him, and realized that this was the first time she had felt properly able to _see_ him. That first night she had been so preoccupied by everything else going on, by the relief and the tension and the liberty. She had taken in some details of his appearance, sure: fluffy silver hair, a hard-to-age face, blue eyes. But now she noticed more.

"So - how do you feel? Ready to go?"

She noticed his full cheeks, juxtaposed against his angular jawline.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"That's the spirit! And talking of spirits... Can I get you a drink?"

His flawless skin which, to be honest, she envied.

"No thanks, I'm trying to keep my mind clear. Maybe afterwards!"

"Of course." He smiled. "When are you on?"

"I'm the last act, but I'll probably stay around for a while after. Finn's coming, so we'll probably hang out a bit. You can join us, if you'd like." The professor shifted from side to side a little, nervously. "You'd be more than welcome," She hastened to add, and he stopped shifting. It was then she realized: she needed to make it clear that he was welcome, that he wasn't just a tag along or invited out of politeness.

"After all," she continued with a smirk, "I need to pay you back that $20."

His eyes widened as she pulled out the same bill from before. "Robin, _no_ , you--"

"Robin, yes!" She held it out - that very same $20 from the night of their dinner - and waved it like a tiny flag. "If you don't take it back, I'll just use it to buy you a drink later."

_Buzz buzz! Buzz buzz! Buzz buzz!_

Robbie quickly hid her screen from the Professor, and frantically scanned the room for Finn.

She could see him near the entrance, pulling a dumb face at her, raising his eyebrows and kissing the air.

He was only kidding of course. They often accused the other of flirting as a joke. Usually, they have a good laugh, but Robbie found herself becoming strangely flustered by the insinuation. She did want to make a good impression on the Professor, after all. She didn't want him to think they were laughing at _him_.

_Why am I getting so protective?_

_I just don't want him to be lonely, that's all - he told me that he's lonely._

She turned to him to tell him Finn had arrived, but found her words trailing off, as another couple of thoughts took up space in her head.

_...Aw, his cheeks are all pink from the cold._

_Is he wearing cologne?_

Finn came stalking across the bar, still making faces. Robbie just hoped that the Professor wouldn't see it.

"Oh hi, Finn," She hissed through gritted teeth, and she felt her cheeks begin to grow pinker as he began giggling.

"Hello my darling, I'm very excited to finally see you in action." He brought her in for a hug, and she jabbed him in the side with her fingers. _Behave,_ it said.

He broke the hug, turning to Hidgens. "Hi Professor. Robbie told me that you might be here! Looking forward to the show?"

"Very much! And Robin is performing last, so you and I will have some time together to discuss your show, if you don't mind."

Finn seemed very glad for his genuine, kindly interest. "Uhh, sure, that sounds great. Can I get you a drink?"

"You can't, because they're on me tonight. To the bar!" Hidgens threw his arm round the younger man and led him away, turning back to Robbie to say: "Break a leg, Robin. I'm sure you'll be fantastic."

"Hi, Robbie?" Emma stood behind her. "Do you wanna come backstage now? We're gonna get started in a couple of minutes."

"Cool, will do."

"Also, how do you know Professor Hidgens?" Robbie must have looked puzzled, because Emma continued. "I didn;t want to interrupt you guys, but I'm one of his students."

" _Oh!_ Well, I know him because -- Well... Well it's kind of a weird story. See, I was dating this guy called Scott, and--"

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Beanies' Comedy Open Mic Night!" A redheaded woman in an outfit similar to Emma's had stepped up to the short, raised platform on which the performances were due to take place. "My name is Nora, and I'll be your host for this evening."

Emma quickly gestured towards the 'backstage area', which in reality was just a couple of chairs either side of the platform. "Oops, sorry. I'll chat to you and the professor later. Good luck!" She disappeared into the bar area, presumably to help out with service.

Robbie peered out into the crowd, searching to see where Finn and Hidgens were seated. She caught the latter's eye, and he smiled coyly, before quickly looking away.

Not that Robbie noticed; she did the same.

God, she hoped that this would go well.


	8. Only For You

**I'll be waiting in the wing**   
**Wound up tighter than a spring**   
**As the house begins to dim**   
**And I'll practice every line**   
**Hoping desperately to shine**   
**Shining only for him**

\- 'Only For You', _Love Never Dies_

**xx.xx**

A young woman stepped down from the stage, to thunderous applause. She had absolutely killed her set, leaving Robbie feeling equally awe-inspired and nervous.

"Wasn't that a wonderful set? Give it up one last time for Anna, and keep the applause going for our final performer of the night, Robbie!"

 _Okay. This is it._ She took a deep breath, her hands already trembling, her stomach doing loops. _You've got this._

The crowd were nicely warmed up now. Whilst her first set had been greeted by a couple of claps, this time Robbie walked onstage to the sound of cheering, whooping: a buzz of drunken enthusiasm. Finn grinned, giving her two thumbs up. The Professor nodded in encouragement.

She took her place center-stage. She thought about how she looked. She thought about the woman they all saw up there, the woman _he_ saw - her casual black dress, tights and boots. Thick dark hair. Grey eyes lined with only the most precise of cat-eye flicks, the corners highlighted with silver. Standing in at 5 foot tall, maybe a couple inches more; she could never quite remember her exact height, least of all now that a million other things raced through her head. 

Who did the audience expect her to be? Would she live up to that expectation, or would she surprise them?

Would she surprise the Professor?

Robbie turned to the mic, furrowing her brow as she noticed it was about a foot taller than she needed it to be.

"Wow. I knew that going on last tonight would be a _tall order_ , but this is ridiculous!" The crowd giggled as she shortened its stand.

"Hi everyone! As Nora just told you, my name is Robbie Franks. Can you tell that my parents really wanted to have a boy? Like, I can understand their disappointment. They were hoping for a strapping young man, and instead they got _me,_ an anxious little gremlin. Maybe they thought that calling me Robbie would make me more tough, in reality it just meant that I was bullied as a child... _And_ as an adult."

Her audience seemed to warm to her through her self-deprecation, and she launched into her routine: wordplay, puns, jokes about her home town, funny stories about what it's like to be an older student. Whilst not every joke landed a solid laugh, the audience seemed to enjoy her material more often than not.

She tried her best not to look toward Finn and the Professor to see if they were laughing after each punchline, but whenever she could hear them giggling she would let her gaze trail over to them. It made her heart full to have such supportive friends.

"My time is almost up, but before I go, let me tell you one last story..." She noticed Finn wiggle in his seat with excitement, clapping his hands together. He knew what was coming. He leaned over to Hidgens, whispering something in his ear. The professor began to laugh.

_I hope he takes this well._

"So, give me some noise if you like musicals!" A chorus of cheers came up from the crowd. "Trust me, I know. Everyone in Hatchetfield seems obsessed with them."

The crowd continued cheering; the yearly musical at the Starlight was a big part of the town's cultural calendar, after all.

"Don't get me wrong, I love them too. Honestly, what better way is there to escape from your own problems than to pay hundreds of dollars to go see someone sing about theirs? Well, I was dating this guy for a little while, and we made plans to go and see Godspell. He arrived 30 minutes late, and was speaking at full volume during through the show. We were _that_ noisy couple in the theatre."

A few boos from the audience, which made Robbie chuckle herself.

"I know," She continued, "Trust me, no one hated us more than _me!_ Except, perhaps, for the guy sat next to me. Before the show he had been telling me how much he _loves_ Godspell, and there we were, ruining it for him. I bet that at the end we was wishing that they would crucify my date instead."

She locked eyes with Hidgens, and he seemed rapt. A steady, soft smile on his lips. _I can't believe you would choose to talk about me,_ It seemed to say.

"But what can you expect from a gal from _Clivesdale?"_ She continued, gaining a few scattered laughs. "Anyway -he tells me that he wants to leave, because musicals are 'flouncy' and 'gay'. Now, two things: firstly, what did he expect from a musical about Jesus? The man was buff as hell and surrounded himself with guys 24 7. Still, I found Judas hotter; I've always liked a bad boy."

Some 'oooohs' at the slightly more controversial gag, but it went down well in general. Finn winked and blew her a kiss - he'd played Judas, after all. 

She took a deep breath for the next punchline.

"Secondly... if he _was_ a homophobe, it's a good thing he never actually listened to anything I ever told him, because I'm bisexual. Maybe he doesn't believe we exist, or maybe he just hadn't heard me correctly and he thought I really liked bikes or something."

That final joke caused the crowd to erupt. A spattering of applause underlined the sound of the whole room laughing at - no, _with_ \- her. She couldn't help but joining them, giggling not at her own joke, but because of her sheer glee that they seemed to enjoy it.

"I didn't say anything because I'm an anxious mess of a human being, but the man sat next to me turned around and called my date a couple choice words and actually got him to leave. It was the most dramatic moment of my life - it was like everyone in Hatchetfield loves musicals so much they think they're _part_ of one. So now I'm sat watching Godspell on my own, next to a stranger who's basically just dumped my boyfriend for me because he got offended on my behalf-- and to top it all off... he tells me that I should try doing some stand up comedy, because my evening had given me plenty of material."

The crowd gave her a hearty chuckle, and Robbie couldn't help but grin again - this time, however, it wasn't for the audience's response. It was her recollection of that evening at the Starlight theatre that made her smile.

It had been one of the weirdest, worst nights of her life at the time. But Hidgens was right; if you give a tragedy enough time and it becomes comedy.

She looked to him; his soft smile remained and she felt warm. He had been so encouraging. It seemed to her that he was the only person in the crowd, as if her whole performance had been for him.

_Maybe it_ _was._

She felt a deep stirring within her gut: she didn't have butterflies so much as she felt like she'd been punched in the stomach.

She laughed nervously, breaking away from his gaze. "So, y-yeah. Thanks Hatchetfield, for being very chivalrous in the face of assholes from Clivesdale, and thank you for being a great audience. I've been Robbie Franks, good night!"

The crowd gave her a healthy round of applause as she hopped down from the stage. She hadn't absolutely brought the house down, and there'd been a few duds in there, but she'd been funny enough. She hadn't choked up, she'd entertained a group of people for ten whole minutes on her own, and most importantly, she had tried her best after having her confidence shaken.

She was _proud_ of herself. And, of course, more than a little distracted by the feelings she had had up there.

 _I'm being dumb,_ she thought. _I was on stage! Emotions were running high, I was probably just relieved that he was actually laughing._

The other acts shook her hand and as they all congratulated each other, Robbie tried her best not to feel like an impostor. They had all been so funny, and whilst she was sure she had been the weakest act of the evening, she was grateful for their encouragement. Their kindness was humbling, but as much as she enjoyed it, she also couldn't wait to see what Finn and Hidgens thought of her performance.

As soon as she started to approach their table--

"Woooooooo!"

Finn had risen to his feet, cheering her and generally making a big fuss. She burst out laughing, feeling more than a little flustered. Hidgens remained seated, politely clapping.

"Stop it, you're making a scene!" She said, swatting at Finn between giggles, settling herself down in-between them. "You liked it then?"

Finn just rested his head on her shoulder, squeezing her in a clumsy hug. It was the only answer she needed from him.

The Professor simply looked at her; his sweet, soft smile persisted. "You were good." It twisted into a more playful smirk. "And I'm not just saying that because you talked about me."

"You didn't mind?"

"No, I'm glad that I was worth a mention."

Robbie met his admiring gaze with one of her own, looking at his kind face though her lashes. _Of_ _course_ _you're worth a mention,_ she wanted to say. _I've been thinking about that night a lot._

She went to speak, but stopped short; the words evaporating into non existence as soon as she opened her mouth.

 _Stop it_ , she thought. She was being ridiculous. She was just worked up from the set, she was feeling high from her small success, she had too many cups of coffee...

The Professor frowned, leaning forward. "Are you alright, Robin?"

"Yeah," she croaked out, "Sorry, ha, I think the adrenaline has got me feeling a little bit funny." She pinched the bridge of her nose, scrunching her eyes shut - as if she could open them again and her confusion would be wiped away. "I'm kinda dizzy."

"It's okay." His usually overly animated voice had become soft and low. "It'll pass."

"Soooooo..." Finn slurred. Oh _God_ , she'd almost forgotten that he had been sat next to her the whole time. "You thought Judas was sexy, huh?"

_Thank god, a change of topic._

"Yes I _did_ ," she took his face in her hands, putting on a fake, overly flirty voice. "The _sexiest!"_

"You know it." Finn slid down from his stool. "But right now, Judas needs a piss. Wanna get shots when I come back?"

"No," Robbie laughed.

"Yes!" Hidgens clapped his hands together at the same time.

"Two against one." Finn smirked. "Vodka? Yes. Vodka."

 _No, come back,_ Robbie desperately thought as Finn sauntered off to the bathroom, leaving her and Hidgens alone again. 

It wasn't that she felt uncomfortable being alone with him, that wasn't the problem at all. It was the fact that the opposite was true. 

There was a lingering, heavy silence between them. Elsewhere in the shop, people fluttered about and clinked their glasses; the warm amber glow of an easy, slightly boozy evening thrived in the place.

"So..." The Professor began, and her eyes immediately snapped to meet his. "Have you heard any more from...?"

"From the asshole?"

"Yes," he smirked, "From the asshole."

Robbie felt so at ease with him. Hidgens had seen her at her most sensitive and _helped_ her rather than leave her to suffer.

That had to be what this confusing feeling was, right? She just didn't want to mess up her chance at making a new good friend. That was a pretty rare occurrence for her, after all. 

"Well, he's--" She stopped short. What could she say?

Scott had been sending her shit for weeks now. She tried not to look at the messages, but on the occasion they flashed up, they turned her stomach. He'd wildly tear through his usual motions: an apology, a compliment, a plea, an insult, a _threat_. Rinse and repeat. She felt so angry that she hadn't spotted the pattern before, that she hadn't seen the signs. She'd block him, but - but what if he did something stupid? 

She took a deep breath. "He's - well, take a look for yourself." She opened her messages app and slid the phone across the table towards the Professor.

He raised an eyebrow; she nodded.

_Read it._

He picked up the phone and began to scroll, stopping after scanning the last week's worth of one-sided insults, pestering, and veiled, dark promises.

He placed it gently down on the table, but she could see that he was pissed off. His jaw clenched, his shoulders stiff.

"I see." He took a sip of his drink. "What was his name again?"

"Scott."

"No, his full name."

Robbie must have given him an odd look, because he leaned back, dropping some of his intensity, and clarified: "I'm just interested."

"Uhh, Scott Thomas."

Hidgens nodded, and took another sip of wine. "Okay."

Robbie's heart beat faster. "Why'd you ask?"

He shrugged, and just as Robbie started to ask him again, a voice from behind her: "Hi, Professor Hidgens!"

His attention was diverted to the space behind her left shoulder: he grinned, beginning to stand. "Oh, hello Emma! How are you?"

"Good thanks," Emma walked round the table, giving Robbie a wave. "I wasn't expecting to see you here, Professor." Emma's tone wasn't one of accusation but of genuine curiosity and fondness. Robbie put two and two together in her head: if Emma was his student, she must've been well aware of the fact that he didn't leave the house much. "What's the occasion?"

"Well, I came to see Robin perform," he smiled and gestured to Robbie, who gave a small, awkward wave.

"Oh, cool," Emma nodded, but this had obviously only raised more questions for her. "So... How do you two...?"

Robbie stumbled over her own words to answer the question. She didn;t want Emma to get the wrong idea, after all.

_God, imagine if she thinks we're dating! That would be... God, that would be so... Embarrassing._

"Well, I met Professor Hidgens at the theatre, and..."

_What's the easiest way to explain this?_

"He was the stranger from my set; he told the guy I was dating that he was a homophobic asshole. He told me that it would give me some good material, and he was right." If she had been sitting any closer to him, Robbie might have been able to notice that Hidgens was blushing a very pale pink. "So, I invited him to come and see the final product."

Emma laughed. "That guy did sound like an asshole."

"Oh, he really is." Hidgens' eyes flickered towards Robbie's phone.

"He _was_." Robbie reached forward and took it, shoving it back into her pocket. "But luckily, I had a friend to help me out."

 _Friend_.

The word lingered in the air, as thick as the smog of awkward tension had been the night they had met. Back then, it was the uncertainty of who should talk first that clouded the space between them, now, it was something sweeter: she had said that they were _friends_.

" _Well_..... I should get back to the bar," Emma collected their empty glasses. "But it was good to see you, Professor. Catch you in class. See ya later, Robbie."

"See you!" Robbie smiled - Emma seemed really cool. Besides, it was nice to see that Hidgens' students liked him.

_Buzz buzz!_

Robbie felt her cheeks instantly burn a bright pink, and when she turned back to the Professor, she saw that his face was a similar shade. He hadn't seen her text, she had made sure of that - was he flustered by her calling him a friend?

"C'mon, Professor Hidgens." She smirked, hopping down from her seat. "Finn's ordered us drinks."

"I would have gotten them, he shouldn't have!"

"I know you would've - but he _did_ , so let's go get them."

As the Professor stood up and turned his back on her, Robbie made sure to do two things very quickly: firstly, she slipped the $20 bill into his back pocket. _Their_ $20 bill. 

And secondly, she whipped her phone out and sent a sneaky text.

_Liar._


	9. My Junk

**I spend the day wondering**   
**What you do, where you go**

**I try and just kick it**   
**But then, what can I do**   
**We've all got our junk**   
**And my junk is you**

**\- 'My Junk', _Spring Awakening_**

**xx.xx**

"And that," Professor Carroll concluded, "Is all the time we have left for today. Thank you all for your discussion, we'll continue looking at Romeo and Juliet in next Thursday's seminar."

It was only 4pm, but the first haze of evening light had started to pool into the room from the small classroom window, casting pale shadows over Robbie and her fellow students. Winter was drawing in, as was the nighttime, which seemed to start earlier each day due to the change in season.

Whilst the others all chattered about their plans for the upcoming winter break, Robbie shut her laptop lid and gathered up her books, ready to make a swift exit.

"Hey, Robbie," Professor Carroll paused, bag in her hand, leaning against her desk. "Do you mind staying behind for a couple minutes? I need to talk to you about something."

"Oh, sure." Robbie slung her worn leather backpack over her shoulders, trying to seem calm.

Prof. Carroll gestured for Robbie to take a seat. She was a kind-faced woman of about 40, firm but fair, a specialist in Shakespearean tragedy whose passion for teaching was dampened only by her hatred of marking papers.

"Don't look so worried - you aren't in trouble."

Robbie laughed nervously. She knew she hadn't done anything wrong, but her anxiety always sent her mind spinning off into bad places whenever someone "needed to talk to her".

"Firstly - how are you finding assimilating back into college life? I know an interruption can be tough."

"Well," Robbie's mind flickered to Hidgens. "I have been making some new friends."

"That's good. I don't mean to pry; I just know it must be a bit difficult seeing as you're a more mature student. I also know about..." she tapped her chin with the end of her pen, looking thoughtful. "The university obviously knows about your _family_ situation. And I just want you to know that the university has counselling services available to-"

"Oh, yeah, no, that's all— that's all fine. In the past. I'm dealing with it fine." Robbie stammered, saying whatever she could to stop Caroll talking.

She didn't want to think about her past right now. Or ever, really.

"Okay, as long as you know we're here to help. Now the main thing I wanted to chat about - I've been informed by a colleague that you've been receiving some unwanted messages. Is that right?"

Robbie swallowed hard, her mouth going dry. "Uhh, what?"

Carroll sighed. "Apparently you told a member of staff that your ex has been sending you some worrying texts."

The mix of emotions that came swirling around Robbie's head was acutely confusing. Embarrassment: she didn't want anybody else to know. Anxiety: she didn't want to think about Scott or his messages at all. And, admittedly, a small gnawing of betrayal - she thought that this was just between her and Hidgens. _Why_ had he told other people? And how many people had he told?

"Yeah, I-- I mentioned it to Professor Hidgens."

"Okay." Carroll's tone was comforting but firm, like a family doctor. " _Are_ these messages threatening in nature? And is this person a student here?"

"...Yes. To both."

Carroll nodded, leaning back a little. "Then we can do something about it. If you make a formal complaint to the governing body, they'll take from there. I'd imagine that the outcome would be expulsion."

Robbie ran her hand through her already unruly hair.

_Scott could get thrown out of college._

"I need to think about it." She bit the inside of her cheek and began picking at her nails.

Carroll patted Robbie's knee. "Yes, think it through. And just let us know if you need anything, okay?" She stood, as if she were about to lead Robbie to the door, but the younger woman sat still, turning round in her seat.

"What did Professor Hidgens tell you?"

"Well he sent me an email this morning; he said that you had mentioned being in my class. He asked me to keep an eye on you because you were having a tough time. In fact, he only told me the exact reason when I pressed him."

Robbie's sour mood lifted a little. He wasn't just going around spreading it, he was _looking out for her._ "Oh."

Carroll trailed back over to Robbie's seat, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Listen - I don't know the man personally. I don't have cause to socialize with biologists, our fields don't exactly overlap. _But_ , I can still tell from his email that he's deeply concerned about you. He might already be planning to move forward with disciplinary action on your behalf, I don't know the entire situation. I think you should talk it through with him."

"Okay. Yeah. Will do." Robbie's head swam as she collected her things.

"Good. And I'm here to talk to as well. Okay?"

Robbie nodded. "Thank you."

~~~

She ambled through the streets of Hatchetfield, headphones in, a random playlist blaring into her ears in an attempt to drown out her own thoughts.

It wasn't working.

_Scott still hasn't stopped texting me._   
_It's been over a week now._   
_I think he's getting more angry._   
_Maybe I_ _ should _ _do something about it._   
_Why haven't you blocked him yet?_   
_You're afraid. Of him, of the situation getting any bigger. T_ _hat's why._

She wondered what they must have thought, the people walking past her on the street. Her brows knitted together, corner of her mouth twitching as if she might burst into tears at any moment.

Robbie wasn't walking anywhere in particular, she just wanted to walk. Her apartment was small enough; there wasn't enough room in there for her _and_ the thoughts that had been eating away at her day.

Besides, she had also felt anxious about being at home lately. She lived alone. And he knew her apartment number.

Turning a corner, she imagined - just for a moment - what it might be like to see Hidgens there. Leaning against the wall of a faculty building, smoking.

He would say hi; he would ask her how she was doing.

Maybe he would talk to her about their night at Beanies following her set. The two of them had sat drinking and talking about literature for an hour before he had called it a night and headed home. When he left, he had urged her to be safe.

Maybe he'd try and slip her that same $20 bill that had been passed back and forth between them with each meeting.

She faltered a little, stopping mid stride. She was smiling. Grinning, really. Just at the thought of it. Grinning, despite the chaos tangling her thoughts into an impenetrable web. Even the thought of a chance encounter with him brought her relief.

Snapping out of it, Robbie shook her head, scowling. She didn't have time for this.

Yet she had to admit... She found herself thinking about the lonely recluse more and more as the days went by since the last time she had seen him.

Hatchetfield was a lonely place. She was just glad to have another friend in this town, she tried to convince herself.

And the harder that she tried to convince herself of that, the harder _something_ deep within her core fluttered and sang and cried out to be heard. Whatever this _something_ was, it was still small, but she knew that it threatened to grow exponentially if she paid it any more attention.

She leaned against a lamppost, which buzzed with brightness as the sky darkened further. In her mind's eye she imagined embers fizzling out on the street, just as they had done the night she had met him. Pinpricks of light, flicked from the Professor's cigarette as he spoke of loneliness, comedy, reputation.

Closing her eyes, Robbie took a deep breath in through her nose, out through her mouth.

_Professor Hidgens might be trying to get Scott expelled from university._

It was utterly absurd, they had to discuss this. She needed to know exactly _what_ he was doing, but... she also wanted to see _how he_ was doing.

_____

Hi Professor Hidgens,

Thanks again for coming to see me perform at Beanies the other night. I'm really glad you enjoyed it. It was nice to talk with you afterward.

Professor Carroll had a discussion with me today regarding Scott. Apparently you had mentioned the situation to her and you might be thinking of making a formal complaint about him to the board.

Could we discuss this? I'm not sure exactly what this process entails, or even if it's something I'd like to go through with.

Thanks,

Robbie

_____

She typed the email agonizingly slowly, given that the chill air had gotten into her bones, making every movement stiff and pained. She continued to stand under the lamppost as she typed out another message.

She started to walk to the bus stop, to go and sleep at Finn's for the third time that week.

Before long she was bundled up on the bus, her head resting against the misty window, rattling with every bump in the road. She watched the road whizz past her, dappled with moonlight and the falling rain.

_Ding ding._

_An email._

_____

Dear Robin,

There's no need to thank me, it was my pleasure.

My sincere apologies; I don't want you to think that I've been interfering with your business without your permission - I've already done too much of that by asking Scott to leave that night at the Starlight.

I don't want to meddle in your affairs any further, but I do want to assure your safety. I can't help but feel partly responsible for all of this. That's why I asked Professor Carroll to check in with you, as she sees you on a regular basis. I hope I didn't overstep any boundaries by doing so.

I've been meaning to speak to you about the situation myself, however, as I do feel that disciplinary action might be a good option for you to pursue. I'm aware that it might be too sensitive to discuss over email or Skype, so perhaps we should meet in person? Let me know if this works for you.

I also need to return your $20 bill. Somehow it seems to have ended up in my trouser pocket... I've no idea how. :-)

Your friend,

Prof. Hidgens

_____

"What are you smiling about?" Finn quipped as he opened the door to Robbie, who was beaming at her phone screen.

"Nothing."


	10. You Matter to Me

**Come out of hiding, I'm right here beside you**   
**And I'll stay there as long as you'll let me**

**Because you matter to me**   
**Simple and plain and not much to ask from somebody**

-'You Matter To Me,' _Waitress_

**xx.xx**

"So, what time is your date tonight?"

Robbie would have rolled her eyes if she hadn't been doing her makeup; it would have completely ruined the cat-eye line that she was painstakingly painting. "6. But it's _not_ a date."

"Okay, so you're just going over to a guy's house." Finn nodded, his signature sarcastic tone in full swing. "Yeah, that doesn't sound like a date _whatsoever_."

Robbie huffed, finally turning around to look at him. "May I remind you that I'm bi?"

"What has that got to do with anything?"

"Well, I have the potential to be attracted to anybody. By your logic, any time I hang out with _anybody_ else, it could be seen a date." She stuck her tongue out at him, turning back to the bathroom mirror to finish fixing her face.

Finn came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder, watching her in their reflection. "True. Good point. But Hidgens isn't just _anybody_ , is he? You've been sending emails back and forth all day; I've seen the way you smile at your phone. You've got a little cruuuush!"

Robbie swatted him away, grabbing her mascara. "He's just a very lovely man who's looking out for me. Besides, I'm only going over to his place to discuss the whole Scott situation. It couldn't be any further from a date."

Finn took her hand and span her around until she finally broke and chuckled. "I know. I know, I'm sorry. And all joking aside... I really am proud of you. I can only imagine how difficult this must be. You know you're welcome to stay with me and Danny as long as you need, right?"

She give him a playful punch on the arm. "I know. Stop being soft."

"Okay then. I'll see you later tonight, I've got a singing lesson." Finn gave her a kiss on the cheek and sauntered out of the room. Just as Robbie began checking her face in the mirror, he reappeared from behind the door. "That is, if you don't end up staying over at his place."

Before Robbie could stammer out a reply, Finn winked and disappeared off to class.

Her cheeks burning, she looked in the glass to see if her blush was visible. Of _course_ it was - her skin was pale enough that everything showed up. Freckles, pimples, little scars, the tired pink rings under her eyes.

She often felt her face was a gallery of imperfections. Her nose, too tall; her eyebrows, too thick; her grey eyes, too tired.

Then again, she was able to appreciate her appearance nearly as often, allowing herself to praise the mischievousness in her smile, the way that one strand of her dark hair would always fall away from the rest, framing her cheekbone.

Just as her mind began to wander, she thought of the Professor, and her skin was again inflamed. They _had_ been emailing all day, and it had been confusing to say the least.

He'd given her directions to his place, but he'd warned her that the way he lived was... unconventional.

When she'd been told that Hidgens was a recluse, she had imagined him living in a little apartment by himself. Someplace stocked full of books, scattered papers: the organised chaos of an eccentric academic.

What she _hadn't_ imagined was that Hidgens was a doomsday prepper. Well, "apocalypse survivalist" was the term he'd used.

Robbie had initially thought he was joking. After all, the more they emailed, the more his dry wit had begun to come across in his words. The odd joke about the theatre, awkward little smiley faces at inopportune moments. He wrote like a person still figuring out how to text. Hell, maybe he _was_.

All her doubts came tumbling away, however, when she finally arrived at the address he had sent her. It had taken over an hour by bus, but here she was: a solitary plot of land at the very edge of town.

She gazed upward at the tall fence keeping her - and everything else - out, vertical bars of silver with an intercom at the side of the gate that she couldn't work out.

Beyond that lay a long pebble driveway, at the end of which was a moderately sized house in red brick. It looked old, save for the addition of shutters on the misty glass windows.

Just then, the speaker on the intercom crackled on and through the mechanical buzzing came a voice: "Robin! Hang on, it's been a while since I've had to use it... Lemme just... work this shit out."

He sounded so different, and not only because of the crackling of the speaker. The Professor sounded more animated, more at ease. Robbie hadn't considered how much his anxiety might have affected his behavior in public. What would be like at home?

The gate swung open with a creak, and Robbie made her way down the long pathway. Hidgens opened the door, greeting her with a smile.

He was more casually dressed than she was used to, missing his usual suit jacket. Instead, he had chosen a black roll neck sweater, the sleeves rolled up, tucked into high-waisted slacks: still smart, but less formal.

"Hi, Professor. This is quite the place you've got here." Robbie tried to refrain from staring at his toned arms.

"Oh, thank you. He closed the door behind them quickly, ushering her into a dim entryway. "I hope that you didn't find it too intimidating."

She smiled. "I might have, if I didn't know who lived here."

He was too wrapped up in his own mind, clearly, as he simply launched into a seemingly rehearsed explanation: "It took a long time, but I've managed to build a home that's nearly entirely impenetrable to outside forces."

"Well, I know where I'm coming if the world does end." Robin shrugged off her coat; Hidgens took it from her, folding it and hanging it on a rack mounted on the wall.

"What with everything that's happening in the world, I believe that humanity is in a precarious position. Things could come to an end at any time; one should be prepared. I mean, who knows..." he trailed off, and Robbie noticed the same flash of panic in his face that she had seen that night at the Starlight, the only other time he had talked about his fears.

As he stared off into space, Robbie brushed his forearm with her fingertips. "Professor Hidgens... are you okay?"

He sprang back to life at the touch, as expressive as ever. " _Yes!_ Sorry. Let's head inside."

He led her to the next room, a small but comfortable lounge. A small table and chair, just big enough for two people; a TV set; a brown leather couch. Against the wall, a keyboard piano surrounded by worn notebooks. The woody scent of old paper lingered in the air. 

_He thinks the world could end at any time._   
_He's protected himself from everything in here._   
_No wonder he's reluctant to leave._

_But he came to see you._

_And he let you in._

"Is anyone else home?" Robbie scoped the room. She had always assumed Hidgens lived alone, and the sparse furniture only helped to bolster that suspicion.

"No, just me..." Hidgens thought for a moment, then a wave of excitement could be heard in his voice: "Well, except for _Alexa._ " Somewhere at the back of the room, the sound of an Amazon device being activated. "Watch this: Alexa, dim the lights."

In a moment, the small room became dusky, seeming even smaller. He was even harder to age in the low light, handsome and rapt with sheer delight at the novelty of the machine.

He turned to her, and she was glad for the lack of light: upon being caught looking at him, Robbie felt those damn cheeks blush again. "Do _you_ wanna turn them back on?"

"Uhhh, sure. Alexa, turn the lights on." The lights faded back in and Hidgens watched on in awe. At home, it seemed this his blue eyes flashed more wildly, his expressions larger and far more animated. His enthusiasm abounded, and it was a pleasure to see.

"Do you want a drink?"

"I'm fine thanks, Professor."

"Right then - to business!" He clapped his hands together and settled himself down, patting the seat next to him. "Let's talk about the asshole." Robbie joined him on the couch; the seat cushion felt stiff and unused. "I'm sorry for mentioning your situation to Professor Carroll. I just wanted to check in, see that you're doing okay."

"Oh, well, y'know..." Robbie had enjoyed being in Hidgens' company so much that she'd almost forgotten what she was really here to talk about: the non-ending stream of nasty messages from her ex. Her voice came out smaller than she'd expected. "It's fine. _I'm_ fine. I was a little embarrassed, that's all."

"Embarrassed?"

Robbie sighed, absentmindedly picking at her nails, a nervous habit. "Kinda, yeah. Not by you." She let her gaze flicker to his eyes, kind and pleading, then back down at her hands. "Just the situation."

Hidgens brushed her forearm, as she had done to him: so softly. "Robin, this isn't your fault. None of it."

Robbie shrugged, laughing a little too hard. "I know that logically, but try telling my asshole of a brain. I just-- I feel like--" 

She took a deep, slightly ragged breath, fighting the tears that suddenly threatened to spill down onto her cheeks. "I know he's been really shitty but I do feel kind of guilty. Maybe it's because... Well. I feel like I've spent so long trying to pretend I'm fine that it would be weird to stop at this point.... But I'm not."

"Okay." Hidgens' voice was low; gravelly; comforting. "What kind of things has he been sending you? You don't have to tell me - I've obviously seen some of it - but has it gotten any worse?"

Robbie shook her head. "I've not been able to look."

"And why is that?"

"I... Just can't." Her anxiety had shut it down every time she had even considered it; she had pushed it so far to the back of her mind that it had toppled over and stained every other thought. "I know it's dumb, but..."

"None of this is dumb. What were you going to say?"

Robbie swallowed, trying to push down the rapidly growing lump in her throat. "He was never physically... _Y'know_. But he had so much control over me and it's only recently I've been able to realize that." Her eyes stung with saltwater. "You told him to leave that night and it was like a huge weight had been lifted. I can't believe I didn't see it before, I feel _so_..." She ran a hand through her unruly hair. "And now with all these _messages_ from him, it's all making me feel sick. I've been sleeping on Finn's couch."

She daren't look at the Professor - the last confession had come spilling out in a hot rush of emotion. She was sure that if she saw his reaction she would instantaneously burst into tears.

"Okay. Listen to me..." He leaned forward, his voice still low but beginning to grow in intensity. "The stuff I saw, the stuff you've already read and shown me... I'm going to drop what's left of my professionalism here and tell you that I think it was really fucked up." She looked at him, hot tears openly streaming now, smudging that cat eye she had tried so hard to perfect. "Calling you names, making veiled threats--"

"You want to kick him out of college." Robbie wiped her nose with a jumper sleeve.

Hidgens opened his mouth as if to say something whip-sharp and angry about Scott - about what he'd _really_ like to do to him - but stopped himself, attempting to calm down. He leaned back in his seat, letting his body relax but gripping the armrest tight. "... _Yes_. I do want to go forward with disciplinary action. I'm not letting any student at this college be made to feel unsafe." 

Their eyes met, and even through her tears, Robbie admired them. "Especially not somebody I've come to see as my friend."

She felt pinned in place, as if rocks were weighing heavy on her chest, leaving her short of breath. "Okay. I mean, at least it'll hopefully stop him from treating another girl this way."

Hidgens placed a hand on her knee, ever so tentatively, giving it the slightest reassuring squeeze. His skin was warm.

"You're right. And I won't do it without your say, but I do think it's the right choice."

Robbie nodded, wiping her face now with the other sleeve. "It is. It's just... A lot."

"I know." Another tiny squeeze, then he removed his hand. "But I can deal with it for you. Send me some screenshots if you can, and I have no doubt that things will move very quickly."

"...Okay, Professor Hidgens. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He smiled at her knowingly, understandingly. His hand twitched as if he had considered reaching out to touch her again but had chosen not to. "I know you feel safer sleeping on Finn's couch, and that's fine. But do you have a more long-term solution until you feel ready to move back into your own place? Your family in Clivesdale, maybe?"

"No, that's _not_ an option. Finn's will be fine." Robbie daren't give him any explanation as to why she couldn't go back to her parents, for fear of starting to cry all over again in her vulnerable state.

She was always one to insist that she was fine, even when it came to Finn. And yet, here she was, spilling her repressed thoughts and feelings to the professor, without fear of being judged.

_You know why that is, don't you?_

_Come on, me. Stop denying it._

_Finn was right all along._

_You_ _do _ _have a little crush._

They sat in silence for a few moments, as they had their first night of meeting, neither quite sue of what to say.

Then: "Well, it's like you told me, Professor." Robbie forced a shaky laugh. "Comedy equals tragedy plus time. I'm sure I can write a set about this; that'll help me feel a little better."

Hidgens nodded thoughtfully. "Yes. But it is okay to just accept that some bad things are bad and move on _that_ way. Or write something sad about it... Something _wistful._ "

"Are you speaking from experience?"

Hidgens gave a small wry smile, turning to the keyboard against the wall. "Possibly." 

He stood up suddenly, energetically: he seemed to be actively trying to lighten the mood, and Robbie felt glad for the shift in tone. "You see Robin, I've been here a long time preparing for the worst. Near-total isolation isn't exactly a good way to make friends, so... I've actually been writing my _own_ musical about a big group of pals."

Robbie shifted forward in her seat toward him, allowing her Scott-based anxiety to fall to the wayside as she fell under the spell of Hidgens' sudden, infectious excitement. She wiped away the last of her tears. "Yeah?"

Hidgens nodded.

"Mind if I give you the pitch?"


	11. The History of Wrong Guys

**Women have been making bad choices**   
**Since the beginning of time**   
**Are you gonna be another one of mine?**

**But I've been here before**   
**Have I come back for more?**

**\- 'The History of Wrong Guys', _Kinky Boots_**

**xx.xx**

As soon as she saw the letter, early that December morning, she knew it had happened. The college logo on the top right corner, the formal print: she tore it open and her eyes were drawn immediately to the key word.

Expulsion.

There was no need to read the rest; she would get round to it later. For now...

 ** _"FINN!"_** She ran upstairs, two steps at a time, the old staircase in the student house creaking and whining. She knocked on the door, but didn't wait for a reply before bursting in.

"Is that what I think it is?" There he was, sat up in bed in his nest of crumpled sheets, coffee in hand. He slipped his glasses on, beckoning for the letter.

"Yep." Robbie was breathless, thrusting it into his outstretched hand.

"Dear Miss Franks," Finn began to read, as Robbie nestled down next to him. "We the board of governors have been informed... blah blah blah... Mr Scott Thomas' vastly inappropriate behavior... blah blah blah..."

Robbie nodded, shaking with adrenaline. "He's gone! He's already gone; he's been asked to vacate his apartment and everything."

Finn handed it back. " _Damn_. Hidgens really went all out, huh?"

She nodded again, now breaking a smile. "Yes he did."

She held the paper in her hands. For all the tears, anxiety and uncertainty the process had caused her, the result felt a lot like freedom.

Finn pulled her in for a hug and they lay on the bed, snuggling. He knew that he didn't have to say anything to her: Robbie knew how much he loved her, how happy he was that she had been brave enough to do the right thing.

"Well, we should celebrate." He broke the hug, sitting upright. "Let's go out someplace tonight."

"Orrrrrr we could finally have that movie night you promised me?" Robbie jumped up and began to pace around Finn's immaculate room. She braced herself - it was now or never. "I kinda have some... _stuff_... I wanna tell you about."

Finn cocked his head. "Is this not the end of the Scott drama?"

"No. It's not about him."

Finn squinted. "So...?"

Robbie winced, her tone pleading. "Please don't make fun of me."

He clapped his hands together, wiggling in bed. "Oh my god, what's the drama? You've got to tell me now!"

She took in a deep breath.

_Here we go._

"I might-- And I know it's really weird-- but... I _might_ have a tiny crush on Professor Hidgens."

She stood, frozen on the spot, waiting for Finn to react - anticipating the inevitable tirade of teasing that was sure to come her way. She had built this up in her head for days. She always told Finn about her crushes, but this one felt even more ridiculous than usual.

He raised an eyebrow.

"...Is that it?"

"What do you mean, _'is that it?'_ That's my big news!"

Finn laughed. "Sweetheart, that is _not_ news. You could see it from space!"

Robbie threw herself onto the bed next to him, face down, groaning. "Uggggh, I feel so dumb." She wrapped herself up in Finn's sheets - it felt so weird to talk about her feelings for Hidgens, but so enthralling at the same time. "Do you think I'm dumb?"

"Oh, hon..." He rubbed her back, reassuringly. " _Yes_." She glared at him; he giggled. "I've known that you're dumb for years. _But..."_ He continued quickly, before her angry eyes bore holes into him. "I don't think that _this_ makes you dumb."

"But he's a professor! And he's older, and I've just been through all of _this_..." She waved the letter around. "What if I'm just transferring all the feelings I used to have for Scott over to somebody else, rather than get over it properly?"

Finn sat for a moment, clearly carefully considering his next words. "Well," he started, after a few seconds of thought. "If you forget about all that for a moment, if you forget about all of the situation surrounding how you met... How do you feel about him?"

Thoughts of Hidgens came flashing through her mind. His childlike excitement at any remotely theatrical, his vulnerability... Most of all, she thought about how after she had left his house that night, she had found the same $20 that had passed between them several times, slipped into her backpack.

"I feel like..." She stopped short, her cheeks threatening to blush yet again. "Like all I wanna do is talk to him. To thank him for his guidance. He's really lonely, Finn, and he doesn't deserve to be. He's bright, and funny. Very sweet. Generous..."

"Then why don't you go talk to him? You don't need to tell him how you _feel_ or anything, just continue the friendship. I mean, let's be honest - your crush will probably pass, but Hidgens will be grateful for the friendship that it leaves behind."

Robbie sank lower into his quilt. "Wow. You actually just gave me heartfelt advice."

Finn rolled over, poking her in the side, hard. "I know. _Gross_."

She laughed, and her heart felt full. from the way her heart fluttered at the thought of seeing Hidgens again, she knew Finn's advice had been right. "Do you really not think it's weird?"

"I mean, it's not exactly an entirely normal situation, to develop feelings for an aging doomsday-prepping recluse, but you've never been normal."

**_____**

Hi Professor Hidgens,

I got a letter today telling me that Scott's been expelled.

I just want to say thank you for your help. I'd like to think that I'd have had the strength to do it myself eventually, but I'm sure your guidance and help made the process a lot easier. It's meant a lot to me and I'm really grateful. Sorry for getting so emotional that night we met to discuss things - it's been a long couple of weeks.

I also really enjoyed talking to you about Working Boys! It sounds really fun! Please let me know if you'd ever like some help with writing it or putting it on. I'd love to hear some of your music sometime.

Yours,

Robbie

P.S: I found $20 in my backpack after our meeting. I think it's yours :)

**_____**

"Has he replied yet?"

Robbie fought the urge to check as soon as Danny asked.

Finn's boyfriend was a handsome young man nearing thirty, his opposite in looks and in manner. Finn was pale and lanky, with messy auburn hair; Danny was dark-skinned and athletic, his coiled curls forever perfectly neat and sharply styled. More straightforward and boyishly abrupt than his partner, he was entirely dedicated to Finn all the same. Robbie had always liked him.

"Nah, but I only sent it twenty minutes ago. I'll give it some time." She shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth, feigning calm.

They both turned back towards the TV screen. She wasn't quite sure what the movie was; Finn had chosen it. As a couple came onto the screen, kissing passionately, he prodded her in the arm, pointing at the film. "That's you and Hidgens."

And then: _ding ding!_

The three of them instantly looked at Robbie's phone. A new email.

"Speak of the devil..." Finn clapped his hands together. "What does it say?"

It took her a couple of seconds for her to understand what she was looking at. She expected to see the usual block of text, his silly jokes, his endearingly formal tone.

There was none of that. There weren't even any words.

"...I think he's just sent me his phone number."


	12. I'm An Ordinary Man

**A pensive man am I**  
**Of philosophic joys**  
**Who likes to meditate, contemplate**  
**Far from humanity's mad inhuman noise**

**A quiet, living man**

\- 'I'm an Ordinary Man', _My Fair Lady_

**xx.xx**

"What are you waiting for? Give him a call! Ring the number!"

Finn stared at Robbie, wide-eyed, restless and fidgeting in his chair. The romance movie continued to play in the background, but everyone in the room was far too distracted by the real-life romance playing out in front of them to pay it any attention.

"What would I even say?" She read the email for the fourteenth time that minute.

Danny, ever logical and precise, chimed in: "He didn't give you any reason? Just the number?"

"Yep. He didn't even write a subject line. No context, no explanation."

Dan shrugged. "Surely that's a reason in itself. Just ring it and ask him why he sent it to you."

"Do it!" Finn bounced up and down in his seat. "Do it do it _do it_!"

"Chill out, Emperor Palpatine," Danny laughed, giving his boyfriend a playful shove. "Honestly Rob, you should! He sent you the number after all. Just call."

Robbie nodded, full of purpose. "You're right."

Finn sunk down into the couch, squealing. She winced at the noise - almost so high-pitched that only dogs could hear it.

"...But I think I'll go upstairs to do it."

She shut the bathroom door behind her. As much as she loved him, she could really do without him calling out stuff that Hidgens might be able to hear.

_Hidgens._

_Hidgens sent me his number._

She giggled. Now alone, she knew that her laughter was the result of genuine joy, rather than an attempt to please or fit in with others: something that had been rare for the past few months.

Finn was right. there was nothing wrong with indulging her crush just a little, right? She'd been having a tough time and she deserved to flirt with abandon; to spend time with somebody that made her feel worthwhile, somebody that made her laugh.

"Hello?"

"...Robin?" His voice was apprehensive, but unmistakable as ever.

"Yeah. It's me."

A sweet, comfortable silence. Nothing had to be said; for Robbie the quietness held a thousand possibilities. Was it the same for him, she wondered?

After a few moments, he began to explain himself. "I'm sorry I didn't give you any more information in my email. I- I didn't really know how to say..."

"Hey," Robbie spoke low and softly, the tone he had taken with her when she had broken down in front of him. "There's no need to apologize. Is everything okay?"

" _Yes_." He said the word as if it was a realization. "Yes, everything's fine. Its just that... if we're _friends_ now..."

"It's nicer to call, to actually hear each other."

She could practically hear him grin down the phone.

"Yes. Exactly. There's something about hearing another voice. And the university email service feels too formal."

"Is that okay though?" For the first time, Robbie considered how appropriate this was. She didn't want to get him into trouble, after all; that was the last thing she wanted - she didn't want to be the cause of any career-ending rumors. "Like... Is it appropriate?"

"I'm not _your_ professor. I teach an entirely different department." He didn't sound entirely sure. "Besides, we're both adults. We didn't even meet through school; we met at the theatre."

"True." Robbie looked in the bathroom mirror. It was misty, diffusing the image of her face into a vague approximation of herself. She wiped it clear, now able to see herself properly. "But if you're not my professor, then maybe I shouldn't be _calling_ you professor."

She heard him chuckle. "Then what would you call me?" There was a pleasant heaviness in the way he said it; an expectancy...

"Your name."

It was such a simple request, but it felt groundbreaking. She had known this man for weeks, but his title and his surname were the only things available to her. Although it embarrassed her, she had even looked him up online to try and find a profile, an article, _anything_ \- but no. Clearly an internet presence was too much of an ask for a recluse, and his name eluded her.

"Oh, I don't know about that." The same playful tone.

"Then what should I save you as, in my phone? Do you want your full title, with the letters after your name and everything?"

"I did work hard for those letters. That'd be nice." She imagined his wry grin.

"Okay, cool. Every time you text me, you'll pop up on my screen as 'Professor Hidgens, Bsc.'"

" _PhD_ , actually."

"Oh shit," she feigned embarrassment, but in reality, their new found familiarity had her feeling over the moon. "Sorry, _Professor_."

"Or..."

He had dropped all pretense; the joke was over.

"You could call me Henry."

" _Henry_." She said his name aloud for the first time. It felt weighty, heavy, hanging in the air like the tension had the first night they met.

Something about finding out that first name made something shift. Yes, she had seen the professor's home, his generosity, his fear - but knowing his name made him seem even more _human_ somehow. An ordinary man, albeit one of the most fascinating she had ever met.

"Henry Hidgens. It's a nice name. It suits you."

Another silence. "Thanks, I got it for my birthday."

Robbie snorted at his silly joke. "Did you know that the main character in My Fair Lady is called Henry _Higgins_? And he's a professor too."

"Of course I knew that, who do you think I am?" He pretended to be offended, once again dropping his pretense very quickly, unable to keep it up. "It was my mother's favourite film. When I came along a few years later I'm sure that might have affected her choice of name."

"My mom liked it too." Robbie felt a pang of something in her chest - not quite pain, not quite longing, perhaps their echoes. "Soooo... What are you up to this evening?"

"I'm just composing some music. Or at least trying to. See, that's actually something I'd like to ask you... I... Uhh..." He began to stammer.

"You'd like me to listen to what you've written?"

" _Yes_. Well, yes but no, that's not what I'm asking for now. I _would_ like you to listen to everything I've written for the show, because I'd like to know if you would like to come on board to help me write the book."

"...You're asking if I'll...?"

"Help me with the script, yes. Music and lyrics, that's my thing, and I've got the plot all planned out. But living in near-complete isolation for upwards of 20 years does affect your ability to write realistic dialogue."

Was he serious?

"I'm honored, Professor, but-"

" _Henry_."

"I'm honored, Henry. But I'm not much of a writer. I don't want to ruin your show; I have no experience. There are better writers out there. Other people, who do things like this for a living."

"But I trust _you_." Robbie felt nothing but the phone pressed into her cheek, the rest of the bathroom floating away. At the other end of the line, light breathing. Then, a small voice: "That's... well. It's rare."

Robbie swallowed, words caught in her throat. "Oh."

He coughed, and she could hear the muffled sound of him scratch his head. "But - there's no pressure. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable. But I - I wanted to ask you."

Robbie looked herself in the eye in the mirror. What did she see? What did _he_ see?

A woman in her mid twenties. Well-educated but lacking in better judgement. Her future a haze of different possibilities; none of them fully realized.

And her past... 

She thought back to those years at school, trying to carve her niche, trying to find the place she belonged: on the stage, behind the stage, in the arms of people who treated her badly. A decade of grasping at straws.

She was still doing it now, floating from one form of self-expression to another, trying to find something, anything, that truly felt like home. 

But maybe this could be it.

"Okay. I'm in. Let's do this."


	13. Falling Slowly

**I don't know you  
But I want you  
All the more for that**

**Well, you have suffered enough  
And warred with yourself  
It's time that you've won**

\- 'Falling Slowly', _Once_

**xx.xx**

He sipped his coffee, hands jittering. The staccato movement created tiny riptides within Henry's cup: a tiny tide, ruled by his anxieties.

He had only agreed to go here because _she_ had insisted. 

They were to have a production meeting once a week, after she had class on a Monday. They'd alternate between having them at his house, and having them in public. It had been her idea: it would help him get out more, and he could try being in different public situations for short periods. 

Usually he'd only venture outside to be part of an adoring crowd. Musicals were safe; they were predictable. The promise of a happy ever after at the end - or at least a soaring score - calmed his nerves enough to convince him to leave the safety of his refuge; being enchanted by music made all the fear worth it. 

Why was _this_ worth it? Sitting alone in Beanies, sipping a coffee, pretending that he was trembling with caffeine and not terror? He was out of his mind, really, he should just leave right now and--

He looked up.

"Hi, Robin!" 

He was grinning.

The shakes stopped.

She took the seat opposite from him, pulling off her hat, coat and scarf and bundling it onto the back of the chair. "Hi. Sorry I'm late. The bus took forever."

"It's okay, really. Are you going to get something?" He gestured toward the counter. "It's on me."

Robbie leaned forward, trying to glimpse the inside of his cup. "No, it isn't. What's that you're drinking? Latte?"

He smirked. "Yes. Although it _may_ be of the pumpkin spice variety."

"A pumpkin spice latte?" Robbie crossed her arms. "And here I was, thinking I was writing a musical with a mysterious composer... Turns out my teammate is actually a basic bitch."

" _Hey_ ," Hidgens furrowed his brow, lifting his hands up into the air. "Guilty as charged - but I'll have you know that there is nothing wrong with being a 'basic bitch.'"

She giggled at how it sounded in his voice. "I never said there was. So, another PSL for you, or...?"

"That would be great. thank you, Robin."

She put her order in at the counter, and pulled the money out from her purse. All she had at that moment was $20. _That_ $20 bill. She traced its folds with the slightest brush of her fingertip. The very same $20 bill that she had laid down on the table the night they'd met, that he'd slipped back into her coat, that had been passed back and forth between them for weeks now.

Their in-joke.

This would be a nice way to finally settle it, wouldn't it? To spend it on drinks for the two of them, to kick off their first production meeting for the show they were going to write together.

And yet, when the cashier asked - "Cash or card?"

"Card, please." She slipped the bill back into its place, its own compartment in her old, threadbare leather wallet. Overly sentimental? Yes, but she had grown oddly attached to it. she wasn't ready for their little game to be over.

"Here you go." She handed him the mug, already sipping her own overly-sweet hot chocolate. "So, Professor. Where should we begin?"

"Well," He took a sip. "I've already given you the pitch."

"You have indeed. 'It's the story of a group of old college chums...'" She recalled in her best impression of his voice.

Even a week ago she never would have dared to be so familiar, but ever since getting his number, they'd been talking a lot more often. He'd check in, see if she was okay during the day. She would send him honest replies: more often than not, she would be feeling pretty good - although the data was, of course, skewed, given the extremely positive effect that his messages tended to have on her mood. One time she had even sent him a meme, some Tumblr shitpost about Hamilton.

She could tell that he didn't really _get_ it, but he'd sent one back. It wasn't even that funny, but she'd giggled about it all day.

He winced. "Do I really sound like that?"

"I'm exaggerating, but it's not dissimilar." She leaned forward. "So. I've heard the pitch. What's the next step?"

"The _plot_. I've got it mostly figured out here..." Hidgens pulled a yellowing paper from a leather folder under the table, sliding it across to Robbie. "I've even written some of the big moments already. Like I said, your job will be to help me out with dialogue for the rest of it."

Robbie scanned the page. "So is the main character Greg? Or Steve? Or... Stu? Or..." _Wow, that's a lot of main characters._

The Professor tapped the end of the list. "Here. He's the main character."

Robbie's eyes flickered to the end of the list of the titular 'Working Boys': Henry. "Oh, cool. Named after you?" She discerned a flicker of embarrassment in those blue eyes she had become so fond of. "Or is he _based_ on you?"

Hidgens took a particularly loud sip of his latte, pressing his lips together into a thin frown and shrugging. "...It might be semi-autobiographical, sure."

Robbie chuckled, her desire to read the intricacies of the plot fueled and hindered. She couldn't wait to see what he'd gotten up to in his time. She devoured the page, grinning all the while. 

_Hmm. This doesn't sound entirely possible... He said he'd been isolated for decades._

"I didn't know you were a businessman."

He nodded, his eyes focusing on something far in the distance, not quite really there. "Oh god no. Never have been."

"But you said--"

" _Semi_ -autobiographical." He smiled sadly, and tapped the page. "This is the _good_ shit that I've had happen to me. Well, the stuff from college at least. The rest... that's how things might have gone in an alternate universe."

_Oh god, that's incredibly sad._

_Lighten the mood._

_Say something funny._

"So," Robbie laughed too forcefully, trying to break the man in front of her from his wistful reverie. "You've basically written fan fiction about your own life, huh?"

His eyes found hers, and he broke into that boyish grin. She hated and craved the way it made her feel in near equal measure. Like he could read her thoughts.

_God, I hope he can't read my thoughts._

_But imagine if he could._

_I dare you to read my thoughts, Professor._

"Yes." It came out like a confession. "I guess so. Still, there's nothing wrong with that, right?"

Robbie smirked. "Guess not. And did you really play football in college?"

"Again - guilty as charged. I thought I was hot shit back then, I really did."

She tried to imagine him at 21. How old was he _now?_ She'd never dared to ask, not only for fear of coming across as rude: she also worried that the answer would make her feel even weirder about her growing crush. Honestly, it was only his mannerisms that placed him as any older than she was - she decided to live in blissful ignorance.

But she couldn't stay ignorant about everything.

"Professor," She slid the paper back toward him. "I'm happy to write dialogue for you. But if you're the main character..." _Hmm. How to word this?_ "Then the best way to write this - to really capture you, to do the character justice - is to know the _real_ story."

"...As in?"

She leaned back in her chair, one of the standard metal contraptions that Beanies considered affordable seating. "As in _your_ story."

He shook his head. "Nothing to tell."

Robbie waved the paper like a flag. "There clearly is. Even if this isn't what really happened in your life, there's got to be a reason you'd like to re imagine it." She went to touch his hand, but stopped herself. The thought of it left her fingertips burning, "You don't have to. Don't say anything that'll make you uncomfortable. But if it's you that I'm trying to write..."

_Fuck it._

She reached forward, and the burning in her skin was quenched by the feel of his hand. Soft skin. "Then I want to know about _you_. All of it."

He exhaled, and she thought for a moment that she'd never heard anything more weary. His thumb twitched, as if he'd thought about caressing her for a split second before shutting it down.

"Okay. On one condition."

"Anything." She hadn't meant to sound so eager, and yet there she was, offering absolutely anything to hear his life story. This man, with his ageless face and kind blue eyes, living in his fortress alone for years. 

"Tell me yours first." 


	14. Journey to the Past

**Home, love, family**   
**There was once a time I must have had them too**

\- 'Journey to the Past', _Anastasia_

**xx.xx**

She tore her hand away from his, planting it firmly in her own lap.

"Why?"

She hadn't meant it to sound quite as defensive as it had, but her one word question sliced through the comfortable atmosphere like a blade through paper. Sure, she had asked him for his story, but she had a reason: he expected her to _tell_ it. Why did _he_ need to know about _her_ life? _Her_ struggle?

"Because," He began, and he gestured for her hand again. Slowly, gingerly, she gave it back to him. He didn't squeeze it, didn't brush against it with his thumb – he merely held it in his own, but the gesture set her flesh aflame once more.

" _Because..."_ He fumbled for words. "You don't just become _Robin fucking Franks_ as a result of a non-eventful life."

He labored over her name; it sounded so new and alive to her that it may as well have been the very first time she had ever heard it.

She hoped that the flush in her cheeks was light this time. "What do you mean, _become_ Robin Franks? I am Robin Franks; I've been Robin Franks for nearly 26 years."

"I mean how you ended up as the person you are now. I want to know how you became _you_ , and then I'll let you know how I became this." He gestured lazily to himself, begrudgingly, as if he was anything short of a marvel.

She shook her head.

"I was born in Clivesdale in '92. I went to school, and I met Finn when we were 14. When I was 18 I tried to go to university and it didn't work out, so I worked for a couple years and decided to try again. I got accepted, I enrolled, and that brings us up to now."

Hidgens tipped his cup back, gulping the last law few drops of his latte before giving Robbie a steely look.

She frowned, glaring right back at him. "What? I told you my story, now it's time for yours."

"No," He took a sharp intake of breath, as if bracing himself. "You didn't. That was a list of dates; it was a timeline. Besides, I already knew all of that. Anyone could find all of that out about you after a couple of minutes of polite conversation."

She shrugged. "Well I don't know what else to tell you." Her tone was growing ever more brusque. She was on the verge of snapping, now - not because Hidgens was upsetting her, but because she was frustrated at herself.

She wanted to open up, but... talking about what happened? She'd never really done that. Not even with Finn. He'd been there at the time; they didn't need to talk about it. She'd _never_ talk about it. There was no need; no one in her life needed to know, and no one deserved to know, and no one had _cared_ enough about her to ask anyway, until now, so---

"Whatever it is, I'm not going to judge you."

She released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"When I was young," She began, setting her cup down on the squat table, looking the professor right in those attentive blue eyes, "I knew I was kinda different.

I didn't _want_ to be different. I feel like a lot of kids want to be different. They'll say, 'Oh no, I'm not like the other girls'. They try to set themselves aside from the others to feel special.

Don't get me wrong, I think that's mostly harmless. I mean, we shouldn't compare ourselves to other women to make ourselves feel unique, of course - but I think that's a normal stage of development when we're young. I guess that's ironic, huh.

But you see-- my kind of different wasn't a good kind. At least I didn't think so back then. I would get lost when the other girls would talk about their crushes; I would pretend to be into the same kinda guys they would all gossip about but deep down, I felt nothing.

 _Nothing_. Not even a hint of a crush on any of the sporty, masculine guys at high school. The way they talked about them, though - about their bodies, the way they made them feel - thoughts like that had begun to creep into my head, but they were always about the more sensitive guys.

Sensitive guys, and confident girls-- artistic men and bold women. My two weaknesses, I realized.

It's super embarrassing but that's actually why I ever even tried auditioning for the school musicals - way back when we first met, I actually thought had a crush on _Finn_. I know. _So weird._

He explained to me that he was gay, and what that all meant, and suddenly it made sense: I was drawn to him because _in_ him I saw _myself_. Queer kids have this uncanny knack for finding each other in a crowd.

So when I was 16 I finally started identifying as bisexual, but I couldn't be out. My parents were- _are_... Yeah. _So_.

Two years later I started at college, across the country, and I began to explore that side of myself. 

I don't even know how it happened. I don't know what they saw but--

Somebody posted a picture from a party on Facebook, with me in the background, kissing a girl. It wasn't their fault; they didn't know how my family felt about that kind of thing. I'd drink a lot - too much - back then; I still do, and I forgot to avoid being seen.

So... Yeah. Mom saw. Things were said. Angry phone call.

I've not actually seen her since. Or Dad.

It's been seven years.

So, uh.

Yeah. I had no money. No home to go back to. No support. Finn was in Clivesdale, and it's like I said: queer kids. We find each other.

I dropped out, and his family took me in. They're good people. And I hated myself for it, but I resented that. Finn was accepted and I lost everything. I stay with them a lot still; I'll be spending the holidays with them, and I know it's not fair but I still get jealous of him.

But it was... _I_ was... I wasn't healthy. I was very sick for a long time.

I worked. For years. I waitressed and worked retail and every cent of it went into a college fund because I told myself I would _not_ let them take it away from me. I would get my degree no matter what. I started making jokes so that I wouldn't focus on what was going on with me, and stopped talking about what happened.

I rented a tiny apartment out of pride, I finally applied once I'd gotten my shit together, and I re-enrolled last year.

And _that_ brings us up to now."

Silence.

For the first time in the seeming-eternity that she had been talking, she took a breath. It was ragged and shallow, but the air felt clearer than it had for a long time. She tasted the hint of saltwater, and realized that a teardrop had made its way between her parted lips.

Hidgens nodded, ever so slightly. Robbie could hear her own heartbeat. She hadn't meant for all of that to come spilling out, but it was too late now. She couldn't cram all those words back in.

He remained in silence, nodding, a soft smile on his lips, sadness in his eyes.

As soon as he was sure that she had nothing else to say, he cleared his throat.

"I am so, so sorry. But..." He leaned forward. "You've forgotten the most important part."

Robbie shrugged, sniffling. "And what would that be?"

"The part where you meet a devastatingly handsome biology professor at the theatre, he takes your asshole partner out of the picture and you write a musical with him that sets the record for the most Tony awards won by a single production."

She couldn't help but start to laugh, thankful for the opportunity to break the tension. "Yeah. Move over Rogers and Hammerstein - Robbie and Henry are the next big writer duo to take Broadway by storm."

He smirked. "Why are you laughing? I mean it."

"You really do, don't you?"

"Well..." He ran a hand through that thick, soft hair. "I told you that I wanted you to help me write the book because I trusted you, and I do. But Robin... Did you _hear_ yourself telling that story? You've felt such acute pain and loss. And yet--- you still have it in you to treat everyone so kindly, and to tell _jokes_. You're able to spin pain into something that will make other people happy." He sighed, unsure of what to say for a moment. "You will be a wonderful writer."

"Thank you." She smiled slightly, feeling lighter now that the truth had been lifted. "So... What about you? What's the story you want me to tell?"

"I'm embarrassed to follow you. My problems were entirely self-inflicted. Like I said, the show will be semi-autobiographical." He caressed his folder, hugging it in his strong arms.

"It's been my way of coping, I suppose. Through college, everything was fine. I was normal, if you can believe that - I was an athlete, I was popular, had a big group of pals. But I _loved_ the theatre. It was all I wanted to do, but I was so terrified that I wouldn't be any good that I just chose not to do it, and majored in the biological sciences instead.

While all my friends graduated and went on to get jobs, work 9 to 5, get married, have families... I couldn't face a life where I wasn't doing what I loved. But by then, I figured it was too late to do the thing I loved and go into the arts. So, I put it off by doing my masters, then my doctorate... I don't know what made me so frightened, but around that time, I just felt this constant state of dread. All-consuming dread.

It might have been because I was constantly repressing my dreams. Maybe it was the fact that all my friends were becoming successful and I was falling behind. Maybe it was that with every biology lecture I learned more about how vulnerable and delicate the human condition is: global warming, biological warfare, regular illness... I realized there were so many things that could rob me of a future where I could be happy like them.

So I started building my little fortress. Literally and figuratively - I was so afraid of loss that I shut everything out, and in doing so, loss is what I locked inside with me. Friends stopped calling, stopped inviting me to weddings and baby showers. I could lecture from home, so why should I risk my life and ever leave the house? Apart from trips to the theatre of course, but they became few and far between.

So this - the show - it's my second chance. It's my chance to rewrite _myself_. Give me a happy ending; get a taste of the life I could have had if I hadn't been a coward. The story of a group of old chums who _don't_ drift away from each other, a version of Henry who chooses a life that's normal, who ends up happy. I'll admit, I don't actually know much _business_ , I've tried my best, but, uh, the terminology escapes me a little. So..."

He trailed off, finishing his own story with a shrug.

"You know, you still have more of your real-life story to write." Robbie admired his youthful face. " _This_ version of Henry can be happy, too."

He gazed at her, allowing himself to smile a little. "We'll see. But I think the fictional me will have a much better shot at that."

Right then, she wanted to reach across the table, grab him by his stupid black turtleneck, and kiss him like he had never been kissed before. Hell, maybe he _had_ never been kissed before.

But she didn't. She couldn't.

"Well, Professor." She picked up her bag. "We'll see about that. For now, I have to get to class."

"Oh, yes, of course. sorry, I hope I didn't ramble on too long, it's just I--"

"Stop apologizing." She wrapped her scarf around her neck. "I'm really glad you could tell me."

"You are?" He grinned, unrestrained.

"Yeah. And - I want you to know that I trust you, too." She coughed, clearing her throat, and the tension. "Soooo, I'll see you next Monday? Maybe you could show me some of the music, and I can start plotting out some of the scenes?"

"I'd really love that, Robin, but that's Christmas Day - so unless you're planning on giving up some of your Christmas to listen to me, I suggest we meet in two weeks time."

"Oh God, of course! Shit, that's really snuck up on us, huh?" She acted as if she were excited about the upcoming holiday, but the reality? Two weeks until their next meeting seemed far too long to wait.

"Yes, it has. It seems a lot of things have been sneaking up on me lately." She studied his face, looking for his meaning.

"Like what, Professor?"

He shook his head with a wry smile. "Never mind. And remember - you don't have to call me that."

"Oh yeah, sorry. Henry."

"It's quite alright, Robbie."

It wasn't until she was on the bus that she realized - that was the first time he called her by her nickname since learning her full name was Robin.

She grinned to herself. Henry and Robbie.


	15. Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

**Someday soon we will be together**   
**If the fates allow**   
**Until then we'll have to muddle through somehow**   
**So have yourself a merry little Christmas now**

\- 'Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas', _Meet Me In St. Louis_

xx.xx

_"Merry Christmas, darling."_

_Robbie awoke nested in the swath of plush duvets and pillows that her partner insisted upon piling on their bed every day. She stretched, the cotton fresh upon her skin, cool and comfortable._

_"Mm, merry Christmas." She craned her neck upward so their lips could meet, and she smiled into the kiss. "Also – 'darling'? That's a new one."_

_"Well..." Henry kissed her again, somehow softer and more tender than it had been before, and sat down next to her, smoothing out the sheet. "If I'd had my way, we'd be the same age and we would have met years ago. I've got decades of pet-names saved up. I need to make up for lost time."_

_She gazed into his eyes, his playful, boyish smile warning her of what was coming next. He hovered above her then, ready to pounce, and Robbie's entire body seized up in anticipation. Then he came down, poking her in the sides, furiously and relentlessly tickling her arms and neck, laughing all the while._

_"Henry,_ _ stop _ _!" she squealed between giggles, short of breath, kicking her legs and laughing until it hurt. "Henry!"_

"Robbie?"

" _Henryyy_... _Stop it_..." Her fake protestations faded out with a last few giggles, legs twitching, the image fading.

"Oh my god. Gross." Finn poked her in the stomach, hard, and she sat bolt upright. She was in his childhood bedroom bundled in a sleeping bag and, as she was realizing with a tidal wave of embarrassment, had been talking in her sleep.

His eyes were wild with sheer disgust. " _Um_... Were you having a sex dream just now?"

" _No_. No! Why would you even ask that?" She wiped sweat from her forehead, pulling her bird-nest of hair into the messiest of pony-tails, simply to get the frizz out of her eyes.

"Because," Robbie whipped around to see a young blonde woman leaning in Finn's doorway, arms crossed and face entirely enthused: his younger sister, Poppy. "You kept moaning the name Henry."

Robbie began to splutter out a reply, but before she could do so, Finn decided to chime in with his ever-present opinion: "I _definitely_ think you were having a sex dream."

"And who's _Henry_?" Poppy sauntered into the room, still in her PJs, and flopped down onto the bed. "Is he hot?"

"Okay _listen_. He is _not_ hot and I was _not_ having a sex dream." Finn narrowed his eyes, wordlessly questioning Robbie's denial. She decided to tell the complete truth: "I _was_ having a dream about him. But it was just... sweet."

Finn pretended to heave, Poppy looked all the more confused. "A _romantic_ dream?" He scowled. "Honestly a sex dream would've been way less gross."

"So I guess I'll ask again... Who's Henry?" Poppy was in her early twenties, and was currently studying theatre at a university on the other side of the country: the whole family was full of theatre buffs. Given that today was Christmas Eve, Robbie would be spending the next few days with her, Finn, their mom, and their cousin Amelia (among others) in their family home in Clivesdale.

She flopped down on the bed next to Finn, who began to smirk. "He's a professor. Professor _Hidgens_. They're writing a show together."

"Ooooooh, really? And you like him? _Romantic_." Poppy sighed, clearly excited by the prospect. "That could be the plot of a musical all in itself - a young ingenue brought into the world of the theatre by a kindly professor? It's basically Phantom of the Opera mixed with Little Women!"

Robbie nodded, pretending to be nonplussed but making a mental note to check those shows out. 

"Well the show is actually about businessmen who play football... So..."

_Ding ding!_

Finn rolled his eyes at Robbie's text notification. "Come on Pops, we better go and give her some privacy - it's probably her one true love, messaging her about the latest song he's writing for her."

"I know you're being sarcastic," Robbie muttered, "But it _is_ Hidgens." She frowned at his text.

Finn dropped the joke. "What's the matter? Is he okay?"

"That _is_ weird." Finn squinted at the message. "Maybe you should give him a call?"

Poppy took the phone. "Oh my God, _yeah_. Call him, and like... Confess your love, just in time for Christmas Day tomorrow!"

Robbie felt like she had the air knocked from her. "Okay listen: I have a _crush._ I don't _love_ him, so let's just calm down." She gave the others a stern look, not quite as confidently as she'd hoped. "And I was planning on calling him tomorrow to wish him a merry Christmas anyway. He's in that house all alone, he probably just needs to hear a familiar voice..."

Poppy blinked, incredulous, as if struggling to process Robbie's words. "I'm sorry... He's all _alone_?"

"He's a bit of a recluse, Poppy." Finn began to explain. "It's just what makes him most comfortable."

"But it's _Christmas_ , guys."

It made sense that she would have such a difficult time understanding the concept, given the way that the Lewis family all gathered during the holiday period: the more the merrier was their motto, and they practiced what they preached.

In her mind's eye, Robbie allowed herself to imagine what it might be like to spend Christmas with Henry. Swapping presents. Cards with sentimental messages inside. Sharing food, music, falling asleep in front of the TV... Two people, with no families of their own, forging new traditions together.

She didn't allow herself to dwell on her feelings or these small fantasies too often - lest her crush grow into something far less controllable and deniable - but each and every time she allowed herself to daydream, she felt a security and a warmth that she hadn't in a very long time.

_And that dream._

_Fuck._

"What if we invited him to come here tomorrow?" Finn's head snapped toward Robbie, his voice buzzing with excitement. "Mom wouldn't mind, she always makes way too much food anyway." He turned to Poppy then. "He'll get on with everyone super well - he's a musical fanatic, so you'll have plenty to talk to him about!"

Poppy snorted. "As if I needed any more convincing! I _need_ this to happen. I already ship it too hard and I haven't even met the guy yet!"

Robbie's breath hitched in her throat. It was exciting. It was _such_ an exciting thought. But was it a good idea?

Finn seemed to read her thoughts, picking up on her facial cues as their ten-year friendship had trained him to do. 

"I was right about inviting him out to dinner the night you met him, and I think that I'm right about this, too." He squeezed her arm. "If you don't want to, or you think it'll cause him stress, we'll forget the whole thing. But Robbie... I _like_ him." In his eyes, her own excitement was reflected. 

Finn never liked the people Robbie dated. She used to think it was protectiveness, but now she was starting to suspect otherwise: she had the habit of staying in dysfunctional relationships for far too long, and Finn was a great judge of character. He'd seen through Scott's bullshit right away.

And he thought Henry would be _good_ for her.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. The daydream of what tomorrow might be returned momentarily: Henry, playing a song he'd written on the piano as cousin Amelia's dog, Tilly, rested at his feet. His laughter as everyone applauded. His warmth. 

"Well if _you_ like him, Finn..." Robbie smiled, failing to contain her excitement _or_ her true feelings now. "Then I suppose I'd better ask Henry if he'd like to spend Christmas with me."


	16. Take A Chance On Me

**We could live a million dreams  
But only if we dare  
We could go to such extremes  
There's so much we could share**   
  


\- 'Take a Chance on Me', _Little Women_

xx.xx

As Christmas Eve drew closer to an end, lights strung up around the windows flickered on, sending warm white light blinking through the glass. Inside, the gaggle of mismatched family members lounged in the front room of the Lewis' family home.

It was a scene straight from a postcard, but Robbie felt far from Christmassy.

"What do you mean, he said no?" Finn's cousin Amelia stood by the table, impeccably dressed in a smart blouse and skirt, hands on her hips.

Robbie laughed, shrugging, as if the motion of it would shed her disappointment from her shoulders. "It's fine. Really, I'm fine. I rang him and asked him to spend the holiday with us, and said that he would really love to see me..." She faded out for a moment, remembering how tremulous his voice had been as he'd told her this. "But he's too anxious about leaving the house. It gets really bad this time of year."

"So what was that text about? Did you ask him?"

Robbie shuffled her feet, cheeks aflame yet again.

"He felt alone and wanted to hear my voice," she murmured.

Amelia sighed as a yapping sounded from somewhere near her feet. She bent down to scoop up her little dog, Tilly, an adorable white Pomeranian. "That's so sad. Nobody should be alone on Christmas."

"Well I think," Finn's mom interjected, coming into the lounge with a tray full of sandwiches and pastries, stroking the back of Robbie's head in a motherly act of comfort, "That he's absolute trash for saying no."

Despite being an actual mom, Janet was not the most responsible of the group.

"It's not Henry's fault, mom." Finn rolled his eyes. "Didn't you hear us? He's way too anxious to leave his house. Well, I say 'house'... it's basically a stronghold; he's a doomsday prepper."

"Why don't we just go to him?"

Everyone turned to look at Poppy, who sat cross-legged on the plush carpeted floor with Tilly; she had since wriggled out of Amelia's arms and was now happily bouncing and wiggling, tail wagging at 80mph.

Robbie considered it for a moment. No. His place was too small, and she didn't want to impose. 

Going to Professor Hidgens' house for Christmas the next day? It was a terrible idea.

~~~

"We are only staying for dinner." 

Robbie shivered with cold (and more than her fair share of nervous excitement) as she tugged on her thick woolen scarf, hoping the friction would give her some further relief from the chill air. "We'll show up, eat some turkey, I'll give him his present, then we go."

"Yep. Granny is coming over to our place in a couple hours anyway so we'll need to leave soon." Amelia stopped her car. Through the window, Robbie saw the familiar iron gates, and the intercom through which she'd have to ask to be let in again.

"Does he know we're coming?" Finn straightened the little dog's Christmas-themed bandana; she panted happily. "I mean, you have told him, right?"

"Of course I have, Finn."

...She had not.

During the night, as Christmas Day had dawned, she had been plagued by even sweeter dreams of him. It might have been a bad idea to show up unannounced, but asking him out for dinner had been a bad idea too, hadn't it? It was for his good, right?

She'd been afraid he'd say no out of politeness, and she was not going to let him spend the holidays all by himself for what must've been the twentieth year in a row at least. She wasn't giving him a choice.

She dialed his number, stepping out of the car.

"Robin!" His voice was just about as close to an excitable puppy as a human could get. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Henry. How has your morning been so far?" She peered down the driveway: no lights, no decorations.

"Oh, you know... the usual. I've taken the day off from marking, so just watching some bad movies. It's really my only Christmas tradition. Have you ever seen the screen adaptation of A Chorus Line? Great show, shitty movie. I've no fucking clue why they cast Michael Douglas, but then again—"

Robbie knew that he would go on and on if she didn't interrupt: "No, I haven't, but I'll have to see it at some point. I love bad movies."

"Another thing we have in common! Perhaps we could watch it together after our next production meeting?"

Robbie couldn't stop herself from breaking into a smile. She gestured for her friends to leave the car. "Or, you could let me in, and we could watch it together now?" She buzzed the intercom. "I'm outside."

There was near-silence on the other end of the line: an empty buzz punctuated only with a few, short shaky breaths. The gate began to open.

"Are you okay, Henry?"

"...I just can't believe that you... yes. Yes. I'm very okay. I'm the okay-est I've been in a very long.... Just come in. Please come in, I'll be waiting for you at the door."

Robbie turned around, where the Lewis clan stood in anticipation. She gave them a thumbs up, and led them down the path. They hung back, letting her reach the door first.

She held his gift out in front of her. She'd had it for a few days, but hadn't ever expected that she would actually be able to give it to him on Christmas. Under the pale December sky, the paper glinted faintly. It was a deep navy blue, with iridescent silver specks and streaks: a night sky dappled with starlight.

She doubted that he would pick up on the reference to the theatre at which they had met, but she didn't much mind; her only hope was that the gesture made him feel loved for once.

_Not that I love him, of course._

_I just want him to feel loved in, like, a platonic way. By all of us._

_I don't love him. I really don't._

_I might have a crush, sure._

_But I'm not in love._

He swung the door open, and without saying one word further Hidgens swooped forward, scooping Robbie up in his arms and twirling her round; her feet lifted from the floor as they span.

"I cannot believe," He grinned, slightly out of breath as he set her back down on the ground, "That you would give up some of your Christmas to come and see me."

"Not just me." Robbie gestured behind her, and for the first time Hidgens broke his gaze from her face, peering into the near distance. "I brought Finn's family along. Well, they insisted, really. I hope you don't mind."

"Why would they do that?" His expression was a childlike blend of curiosity and joy, and Robbie could feel her heartbeat in her fingertips.

"Because you're brilliant, Henry. Finn's only met you twice and he really likes you, and I—" She faltered a little. "Well, I haven't known you that long but I like you a lot too. I really, really do. In fact... I'd go so far as to say you're one of my best friends."

He turned back to her, eyes shining. "Best friends?"

She didn't have time to reply: Jan, Finn, Amelia and Poppy had caught up with her, carrying foiled plates and bowls of seasoned vegetables, freshly roast turkey, sauces and dessert.

Finn bounded forward. "Hope you're hungry, Professor!" We figured we'd have Christmas dinner at your place."

"And I hope you don't mind me bringing Tilly," Amelia held her pup aloft. "She gets pretty anxious if I leave her alone for too long, so—" She was cut off by Hidgens taking the dog immediately from her, cradling her like a baby.

"She's very welcome here. You're all very welcome here." He stood stationary at the door, stroking the little dog gently, for once in his life lost for words.

In a manner that was not at all inconspicuous, Poppy leaned in to Robbie. "Oh my God. He _is_ hot."

~~~

"Usually we give our presents to each other after dinner," Jan smiled, passing the plate to the professor. It was heaped high with food; he took plenty before passing it to Robbie next to him. "But I think Finn and Robbie are too excited to wait."

Robbie fumbled with the little star-speckled package underneath the tiny table. Hidgens did not, of course, own a table big enough for six people to eat at, so the rag-tag bunch had improvised.

They had pulled the couch over to the table: Jan and Amelia sat comfortably on it, Finn and Poppy perched on its arms. At the actual table, Hidgens and Robbie sat in his stiff plastic chairs, Tilly buzzing round their feet as he slipped her scraps of food.

He seemed a little embarrassed by his living situation, but the warmth of the people around him had seemed to thaw him out, allowing him to be at ease. Every few moments he would glance to his right, eyes full of admiration and thankfulness, just to smile at the girl next to him. The sight was more wonderful to her than any of her recent dreams, and she couldn't help but grin back.

"Do you wanna go first, Finn?"

He shook his head. "My gift needs a bit of explaining. Why don't you go first, so I have some time to prepare?"

Robbie narrowed her eyes. Finn had told her he'd brought the professor _a sweater_. What kind of sweater needed an explanation?

"Okay..." She handed the gift to Henry, everyone watching in anticipation as if they were witnessing the climactic scene in a rom-com. "Sorry it's not much, but..."

The professor took it from her as gently as if he were handling a priceless antique. "It's more than I hoped for – you really shouldn't have – I mean, I didn't get anything for – this is really..." His stuttering faded out as he caressed the paper. "Oh. _Stars_."

Excruciatingly carefully, he slid a clean knife through the fold, and Robbie realized with a lurching heartbeat that he was doing so in order to save the paper.

He set it aside, before gazing at what remained in his hands, processing the gift she had given him. "Robin..."

A bronze frame with a small scrap of paper set inside a clear pane of glass: a $20 bill.

"You can't give it back to me now." She teased, with a faux-sly grin. Then, more softly: "Turn it over."

On the other side was the napkin he had given her the night they had met, crumpled and fading now. Set next to it was a fresher note, written in a different hand.

___

Henry,

Thank you for believing in me when I couldn't.

You've done more for me than you realize, and I'm so grateful that we met.

Thank you for taking a chance on me and making me your co-writer. I hope I make you proud.

_"You live in your own way,_

_It makes me want to dare to take a chance on you."_

All my love,

Robbie x

___

He read it once, twice, perhaps three times, his eyes flicking back and forth over the note as a small smile grew.

Everyone waited with baited breath for his response, least of all Robbie. Then--

"...Are these lyrics?" It was all he seemed able to say for the moment, and she let out a hearty chuckle.

"Yeah, it's 'Take a Chance on Me' from _Little Women_. Don't you know it?"

He shook his head.

"Wow, I can't believe that I know a musical you don't. Although to be fair," Robbie gestured towards Finn's little sister, "Poppy only recommended it to me yesterday. I added the lyrics because I thought they were... y'know. Pretty accurate."

She could've sworn that Hidgens flushed a light shade of pink. "I should listen to it," he murmured, still gazing at the frame.

"You _should_ ," chimed in Poppy, her face the very picture of mischievousness. "It's about a young writer called Jo; at the end she ends up with the older professor who helps her with her writing." Everyone apart from the oblivious Henry glared at her, but still she added: "Which I think is a very romantic situation. Wouldn't you agree?"

Finn decided to change the topic as swiftly as possible: "My turn!"

He pulled an envelope from his jacket, stood up proudly, and slid it across the table.

_What kind of sweater is that?_

Finn must have noticed the perplexed expression on Robbie's face, as he giggled. "So... I might have told Robbie a tiny little lie about what I got for you, professor, but I can explain. You see, I actually have something to announce..."


	17. Being Alive

**Make me confused,**   
**Mock me with praise,**   
**Let me be used,**   
**Vary my days.**   
**But alone is alone, not alive**

\- 'Being Alive,' _Company_

**xx.xx**

The whole family, Professor Hidgens included, leaned in, anxiously anticipating Finn's news.

"I've been nominated for an award!"

They all burst into a warm cheer, and Amelia began clapping.

"Well done!" She squeezed his hand. "What for?"

"Godspell. The opening night of which..." He gestured toward the two friends huddled together at the little table. "Is when Robbie and I met Professor Hidgens, as they were both guests of the cast. Now that they're writing a musical together, I figured it was only appropriate that they should continue to be my guests and accompany me to the award ceremony."

Robbie flipped the envelope over: _To Professor Henry Hidgens and Miss Robbie Franks._

Finn sat back down with a flourish. "It's on New Year's Eve. Your tickets are in there. It's a black tie event at a hotel, so dress fancy, it's gonna be amazing. Your meals and drinks are all paid for."

"Finn..." Robbie ran her finger along the edge of the envelope. "You shouldn't have."

"Hey, don't mention it. After all, I'll have a much better time with you there. Both of you." He winked at Robbie and she realized that the real gift he'd given her hadn't been the tickets at all - he was, in fact, providing her with the opportunity to have an incredibly romantic evening.

Henry caressed the embossed lettering of their names on the ticket. "I'll have to pull out one of my old suits. I think I have a tux somewhere..."

"And I'll have to buy a nice dress. I'm guessing that my usual jumper and jeans won't do."

"Oh - I'm so sorry," Hidgens began, and for a dreadful moment Robbie feared that he couldn't make it to the ceremony, "But I haven't gotten you anything in return. I planned to, I really did, but I didn't think I'd get to see you for another week, so..."

"You bastard." Jan tried to fake anger but broke, giggling half way through. "No, really, Professor - we're just glad that we got to spend Christmas with you. Robbie and Finn think so much of you; we couldn't let you spend it alone."

Under the table, Robbie felt something brush against the back of her hand.

He had held her hand before, a friend act to give her encouragement in times of emotional distress or difficulty. But this was different. He was hiding it from the others. He caressed her. This wasn't a platonic friendly act, this was...

Suddenly he tore away, startled as Tilly brushed past his legs and zoomed across the room, barking at the piano.

"You play, professor?" Poppy swung around to look at the little dog, who was circling and wiggling.

"I do! Not well, but..."

Amelia pushed her plate away, crossing the room the scoop up her dog once more. "Sorry about her, she's just excited by the change of pace."

"Well, we'll have to leave pretty soon to be back in time for Nana." Jan checked her watch. "I hope we've not been too much of a bother."

"Not at all." Henry squeezed Robbie's hand under the table and it felt like a thousand butterflies had been set loose in her stomach. "Before you go... how about I play something?"

The tiny crowd erupted into a chorus of encouragement and he stood, stretching his hands. "Now, it's been some time since I've played for anybody. A really long time. But as I haven't been able to get any of you a gift, and it's Christmas..."

"Oooooh," Poppy clapped her hands together, "Are you taking requests?"

Henry smirked. "Sure."

"Okay, well, my favourite musicals are Hamilton and Beetlejuice," She began counting on her fingers, "And I also love Heathers, Dear Evan Hansen, Falsettos... Have you ever heard of Starkid?"

"I can't say I have, but I know the others pretty well. You like musicals too then, huh? Are you a performer like your brother?"

Amelia grinned. "Well I'm a librarian, but I do study theatre."

"How about some Sondheim?" Finn turned to look at Amelia inquisitively. "What? I'm allowed hobbies aside from the vet practice."

Henry sat down, caressing the keys. Then his long fingers began dancing over them, the tinkling building into an impressive performance of a song Robbie didn't quite recognize. Of course the words were missing, but the melody was at once hopeful and sorrowful.

Whilst most of their group stood around him, listening in rapt silence, Robbie remained in her seat, taking in the scene as a whole. It was as if it had been taken straight from her dream; Henry at the piano, the dog by his feet, her surrogate family crowded around him as he played his instrument.

A quiet voice in the back of her mind – the thing that had been struggling to be heard and that she had ignored, denied, and repressed – spoke up.

_I think I'm in love._

The music faded out and he sat motionless as the small round of applause washed over him.

"That was amazing," Finn smiled, as he patted Henry on the back. He was absolutely right.

After one more drink and more praise for Henry's piano playing, the Lewises began to gather their plates, coats, hats and scarves, but Robbie lingered by the table.

She thought about the words she had allowed herself to think whilst listening to him play.

_I think I'm in love with Hidgens._

It felt like a hot metal ball in the pit of her stomach, sitting heavy and secure but burning straight through her.

She'd always known that this is where that innocent crush was headed, surely, and now that she'd realized her true feelings the world looked scarier and more wonderful than she had ever seen it.

A tide of possibilities and disappointments crashed through her mind over and over again, and she knew she had to do something before they drowned her.

"Guys... I think I might stay." They turned to look at her. "I mean, if that's okay with you, Henry. I just... I think I might stay here for the rest of Christmas."

She looked up to meet his eyes, and was met with silent, eager acceptance.

"Of course, darling." Jan came forward, planting a big kiss on her forehead. "And I hope you have a very merry Christmas."

~~~

She watched Finn and his family fade into the distance in their car - back to Clivesdale, to a Christmas Day that she would no longer be part of.

She passed through the house, back to the lounge, where Hidgens sat expectantly. "You didn't have to stay for my benefit, y'know," he smiled softly, sadly. "If you would rather go back to Clivesdale I can still get you a taxi, it's really not any--"

"No." She sat down next to him. "I'm staying because I want to be here with--"

He flushed bright red this time and stood up abruptly, returning to the piano. "Uhhhh... Do you want to hear some of my music? We could have a Christmas Day production meeting! A Workin' Boys Christmas special!"

"Sure," Robbie smiled warmly and joined him, gesturing for him to scoot over on the bench. She perched at the other end so that they were side by side, thighs touching. "But first - what was that song you played earlier?"

Henry faltered, as if he'd really hoped she wouldn't ask. "Don't you know it?"

"No."

"So... It... it's the final song of Company. This man, Bobby, he has a lot of good friends but he's been alone for a long time. So long, in fact, that he's afraid to change it. But he seems to realise, in the end, that although love can be messy, and suffocating, and intense – the beauty of it makes it still worth having."

His fingers returned to the keys, and he began to play it again, more simply. This time, he took a small breath, and then began to sing along in a hushed tone.

"Somebody, crowd me with love,  
Somebody, force me to care,  
Somebody, make me come through, I'll always be there,  
As frightened as you,  
To help us survive  
Being alive—"

He stopped, pausing, fingers hovering above the keys. Robbie reached for his hand, caressing it with all the tenderness he had given her when doing the same.

His voice was velvet-smooth, so melodic; it was deep yet light and airy when he wanted it to be. He was very good, but she had expected nothing less.

And the _lyrics_.

"Professor, I..."

Robbie looked into his eyes and her words faltered, twirling then dissipating into the air like incense smoke.

His eyes had always been so clear, so light; in that moment, there was a darkness to them she had never really seen before, an intensity that usually only cast over him as he spoke about music.

His eyes flickered down to her lips and back up to meet her gaze so quickly that Robbie thought she might have imagined it.

Silence hung in the air again, as thick as smog. Time drizzled past as slow as syrup.

"What is it, Robin?" His voice was low and raspy, as if coming through clenched teeth. A muscle in his jaw twitched, the flesh there flickering quickly.

"Why did you decide to play that?"

Her heart pounded so hard against her ribcage that she feared he would hear its hammering.

Now, she decided, was her turn to let her eyes flicker down to his lips. She let her gaze linger upon them.

Challenging him not to notice.

"The same reason you wrote those lyrics on my gift. They're accurate, I think." He shifted in place on the bench; turning so he could face her more directly. He was inches away from her face now.

"Professor..."

"You called me professor again. We've known each other for quite a while. We're very good friends, in fact. We can drop some of the formality."

She bit her lip slightly, aware of the closing distance between them, her head swimming. "Agreed. Sorry, _Henry_."

Another blistering silence.

For all the tension that had built up over the weeks, she might have expected him to grab her roughly, to kiss her hard, knot his fingers in her hair and push her to any room he wanted; she would have happily complied.

He didn't.

One of his hands, soft and hot against her skin, pressed gently against her cheek. His thumb brushed against the corner of her mouth and she pressed her fingertips against the back of his hand, holding it against her face.

Reassuring him: _Yes. Really. I want this._

_And I can't believe that it's finally about to happen._

He swallowed hard, his breathing becoming increasingly irregular.

He leaned in to her, and their lips met for the first time.


	18. Once Upon Another Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> I know I don't usually post Author's Notes on AO3, but I just wanted to apologise for the unexpected month-long hiatus. Honestly, I just got very into my work and my other fic for a while there. Thank you so much though to my friend who reminded me to continue posting. You know who you are!
> 
> Hopefully, this will get me back on track. Enjoy!

**Once upon another time**   
**Our story had only begun**   
**You chose to turn the page**   
**And I made choices too**

**\- 'Once Upon Another Time', Love Never Dies**

**xx.xx**

"What about this one?" Finn pulled out a short pastel pink dress, adding it to the growing collection of outfits hanging on his arm without waiting for an answer.

Robbie didn't look at it, focusing on her phone instead. "Hmm? Uhhh, yeah, sure."

He sighed. "Are you paying attention? This is your dress we're buying; the award ceremony is in two days."

"Sorry." Robbie locked the phone but her thumb twitched over the button, ready to turn it back on as soon as possible.

The dress wasn't her colour; she was pale enough that anything light made her look sallow and exhausted, she thought. But then again, she wasn't in the mood to go clothes shopping – nor to think about the ceremony.

"Yeah. It's nice."

"Oooooh, and this one..." Finn spotted another dress, floor-length black velvet. "This one is sexy. I bet the Professor will love to see you in this."

I'm sure he would.

If he was planning on coming.

"Finn..." She rubbed her face, trying desperately to wake herself up a little. She had barely slept since Christmas. "There's something... I need to tell you. About Professor Hidgens."

Finn shot her a playfully suspicious look. "Did you not tell me everything that happened on Christmas?"

Oh God, I'm going to have to tell him now.

It's time. You've put it off all week.

And he's going to find out anyway...

Slowly, gradually, she shook her head.

"Oh my God, what did you two do? And how haven't you told me?" Finn looked so excited that his face seemed an exaggeration of excitement, his eyes wide, smile broad and his hands clapping. "I need details. NOW!"

"Well... We... Uhh..."

She cast her mind back to that kiss.

...And the disaster that followed.

~~~

Henry leaned into her, and their lips met.

Whilst Robbie's mind screamed obscenities, her body shivered and quaked; her stomach churned and her lips burned. His kiss was so light, so gentle, that it almost seemed ethereal.

Then, suddenly, it wasn't so gentle.

Not because of the Professor - Robbie pressed harder on his hand, reaching up to hold his face too, her fingers slipping into his hair and knitting themselves there, eager to do something more.

It was as thick and soft as she had always imagined it to be, and she felt him begin to grin as the kiss grew more intense.

"Robbie...."

He pulled away, and she gazed at him through her eyelashes. His hair was ruffled now, lips parted, eyes closed. He looked more boyish than ever, more handsome.

He sighed a long, weary sigh, then rested his forehead against hers, their breathing becoming synchronized.

She touched his cheek and leaned in again; after spending so long imagining what it might feel like, she was in a hurry to kiss him again, to make sure that she hadn't been dreaming.

This time, however, he stopped her, placing his thumb on her chin and cradling her face in his hand. His grin was rapidly softening.

"Robbie, darling... Stop."

He opened his eyes: he looked to be somewhere else, his alertness fading.

Robbie's already-racing heart skipped a beat: "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Yes." He took her hands, kissing them, never breaking eye contact. Now she could see he was fighting - struggling - to calm down. "But..."

"What?"

"It's just - It's - It's Christmas, we've both had some drinks, I think we've both gotten a bit overwhelmed with all the festivities--"

He's backtracking.

He regrets it.

"...Okay?"

"You're lovely! You are so... Please don't think that this has anything to do with you." He shook his head and her heart dropped through her stomach. He slid further down the bench, so they were no longer touching in any way. "But fuck." He stood, rubbing his temples, wandering away from the piano bench. "You've just gotten out of a relationship. A bad one."

Her tone instantly grew defensive; more spiteful than she'd intended: "Yes, which you helped me to do."

"Yes!" He threw his arms out, his tone becoming that of a teacher trying to explain a concept to a struggling student. "Yes, I did. I got Scott out of the way, then I gave you my number, then I asked you to work with me. My intentions were always good, I promise. B-but, I can't help but think that in some way - in some accidental and non-intentional way – that I've—"

"That you've what?" Robbie took in short, shallow breaths. "Manipulated me into liking you? Groomed me? Gotten into my head?"

She took his solemn silence as a yes. She laughed, but it hadn't an ounce of warmth to it: for the second time in a matter of minutes, she couldn't believe what was happening.

"I'm an adult woman, Henry. Don't think that I'm some easily led, doe-eyed little lamb. Yes, you helped me out of a bad situation and I'm grateful, but I'm not some damsel in distress. I've been manipulated by other people before; I've been gas-lighted in the past and that's not what this is. I chose to come here; I chose to see you. I like you, Henry, you don't need to feel guilty about..."

"I'm an older man, and-" His voice trembled. "And I let you into my sad little life and you pitied me-"

She scowled, interrupting. "Give yourself some respect; give me more credit."

"Why else would you kiss me back?!" He exploded in a burst of frustrated, heartbroken energy. "Why else would you spend time with me? You see me and my loneliness as I cling onto my past and you want to fix me and maybe for a moment there, I thought that you could."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, scrunching his eyes shut, catching his breath. "I'm not going to do anything with you, Robin." He looked at her sternly, once again taking the tone of a teacher. "I'm not going to take advantage of you, or your kindness, any longer. You don't deserve that."

"Henry..."

She shook her head, giving up. It wasn't that he didn't want her: he clearly did. The issue was that he couldn't believe she truly wanted him.

"In another life, we— We might've... I..."

They sat in silence, the promise of what might have been ebbing away.

The ghost of long-gone piano notes faded quickly into the ether, as ethereal as their one fleeting kiss.

~~~

Finn squeezed Robbie's hand as her story seemed to come to an end. "Oh, honey. Why didn't you just come back to our house?"

She shrugged, but she knew the answer fully well: she'd been embarrassed.

"I just went home. I didn't feel too Christmassy after that; I didn't want to talk about it." She picked at her nails, biting the inside of her cheek, remembering how Henry had apologized and begged her to stay; to forget that he had kissed her as if it hadn't been scorched into her memory. "The worst thing is that I don't even blame him."

Finn smiled sadly as he listened, warming his hands on his coffee cup. He was just glad that she could open up about this – in the past, Robbie would have shut down, never told him, repressing her feelings until she inevitably broke down. Henry meant a lot to her. "You don't?"

"No. He was only trying to protect me – both of us - from getting hurt."

Finn nodded, thoughtfully.

"...Yeah." She sipped her latte, but it only served to make her feel bloated and queasy. "He thinks he's unworthy of the attention; he thinks I just felt bad for him. Maybe I did. But I really, really care about Henry, Finn. And I want to do what's best for him."

"Then what are you gonna do?"

She checked her phone. Her new partner to the ceremony had accepted her invitation.

"...I need to let him go."

~~~

Robbie returned home to her apartment building. The building Henry had tried to make safer for her.

It hadn't ever felt like home, of course, but it was the closest thing she had nowadays. The dimly-lit lobby was still decorated with Christmas ornaments, worn after years of use in the building's communal spaces, sapped of all the joy they were meant to inspire over time.

She shuffled over to her mailbox, opening the tiny metal door with a creak. She expected a pile of flyers or pamphlets, the usual mail.

Instead, a letter.

She knew immediately who it was from.  
___

Dear Robin,

It's irritating but I always find that when writing letters, it's much harder to start when I have a lot of meaningful shit to say. I would have emailed or text, but this felt far more appropriate.

"Hello," feels too simple; "I'm sorry," feels like too little too late. But that's as good a start as any, though, so I suppose I'll just get right into it.

What happened between us on Christmas Day frightened me. I'm sure you could tell.

The truth is that I've allowed myself to become quite taken with you. Charmed. Enamoured. There's a lot of other words I could use, but these are the few I'll pick. Anything less intense than that would be a lie, and anything more would be truthful but too much for one letter.

I indulged those feelings and I should never have let myself do that. It's not even the teacher-student dynamic that worries me the most - after all, we're both adults and didn't actually meet through the university - but I digress. 

The thing that concerns me is that I don't know how to react to the way you make me feel. I never have done.

I've only ever had romantic feelings for one other person in my entire life, and that was a long time ago before I became the person I am today.

I was young back then – that was another Henry who was capable of leaving the house whenever he wanted; he didn't fear the end; he was a young (devastatingly attractive) person with a host of opportunities open to him.

Despite all that, I still managed to ruin it. I can't give myself another shot because I'm sure that I'll just destroy everything again. I don't want to deprive you of your youth the way that I deprived myself.

I'm aware that I acted like an asshole on Christmas, and I really am sorry. You did nothing wrong; I still feel the same way about you as I have for months now. To allow myself to be with you in any capacity more than friendship would be unfair to you.

So... Be young. Date around. Go dancing. Kiss boys, kiss girls, kiss people of all genders and laugh about it all in the morning. Make mistakes, but don't let me be one of them.

With all my love,  
Prof. H.

**___**

She sat on her bed, reading it over and over, letting the light outside her small foggy window fade into a dull December night, no starlight to be seen.

**xx.xx**


	19. Dust and Ashes

**Every time I turned away**

**From the things that might have healed me**

**How long have I been sleeping?**

**Did I ever look up**

**And see the moon and the stars and the sky?**

**Oh, why have I been sleeping?**

**\- 'Dust and Ashes', _Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812_**

xx.xx

An alarm. 7:00.

_ Time to wake up, Henry. _

_ But what's the point? _

_ I've got no classes to teach today. _

_ It's still the Christmas break. _

_ It's New Year's Eve, in fact. _

_ Ugh. _

_ The awards ceremony is tonight. _

The professor groaned at the thought and turned over in his bed, far too large for just him. It was a king-size, brushed grey velvet: it had been stylish at one point.

Designing this place, designing this room... He had been so excited at the time. It was to become the habitat for what was left of humanity if the worst ever did happen. He would live here with a partner, a family, safe from any and everything in the world that might be able to harm them.

What use had that been? Now he was just a lonely man in a cold bed.

He kicked the blankets from his body, exposing himself to the cold air. He grunted, burying his face in the pillow before heaving himself up and onto his feet.

Robbie must have gotten the letter by now.

She must have read it.

She must've gotten the letter and she must've read it and that meant that she must know how I feel about her.

The thought swirled around his head over and over again as he went about his daily routine, holding himself to the highest standards of hygiene and dress for nobody but himself. He pulled on his usual high-waisted trousers and a freshly laundered sweater, observing his figure in the fogged mirror in his bedroom.

He was tall and trim, but resented the delicate nature of his gait, wishing to be more masculine, stockier, more grounded. As for his face, well... no one at all could deny that he had aged extremely well. He looked particularly fresh for his mid-forties, and somebody might be forgiven for thinking he was actually Robbie's age, but still, he noticed the thin lines being etched in his brow by the strong, clutching hand of his anxieties.

Lately, though... He had feared the world a little less.

He still believed that it was nearing its end, and he still much preferred the safety of his rooms, but that obsession had fallen to the wayside slightly. It had happened gradually at first: what harm could a trip out to a restaurant do? Then, what harm could he come to if he went to see Robbie's gig? He had grown braver and braver; he had even met her at a coffee shop when he could have met her at home. Just because she had asked!

Because, He thought, running a hand through his hair and throwing a pitying look toward the man in the mirror, Disappointing Robin Franks is fate a far worse than the end of the world.

And look what I've done now.

He floated through the house, at a loss for things to do: nobody to talk to, nobody to need him. He would have had a conversation with his Alexa, as he tended to do at the limits of his anxiety and loneliness; he knew it wouldn't compare to the little jokes and jabs, the compassion and the complete acceptance he always received from her.

I could compose.

But what for?

Who for?

With Robbie out of the picture – potentially forever – he had lost his desire to write. It had come and gone over the past twenty years he'd been locked away, ebbing and flowing with the memories of them: his old friends.

He stalked over to his desk, unlocking the drawer and reaching for the little frame at the bottom. He tried not to look at the photograph too much, lest he become consumed by the long-faded past: at the moment, however, he was entirely devoted to the quickly-fading future he might've been able to have with--

He ran a fingertip along the image of the group of men. Greg, Steve, Stu, Mark, Leighton, Chad. He swept over them all, lingering for a while on one of the handsome faces.

He had loved him, of course.

For over twenty years, Leighton Brown had been the only person Henry Hidgens had ever loved. The feelings had long since faded, of course: the professor was no longer a student-athlete, and nor was Leighton. Henry no longer loved the man sat next to him in the faded photograph; for a long time he had loved no-one but himself.

The last he'd heard of him was that he was living on the coast somewhere, wife and white picket fence, children reaching high-school age.

Those hazy Summer evenings on the football field, clumsy trysts in the dorms... All had been forgotten by his one and only lover, whether wilfully or no.

Henry sighed as he cast his mind back to their graduation. Being twenty-five twenty years ago, building his fortress but not yet imprisoned by it. Running out of the grand hall, blasted by warm Summer rain, the pavement glimmering gold in the amber sunset.

He frowned at the memory of grabbing Leighton's hand, urging him to stay in Hatchetfield. To stay here. Then, Leighton's subsequent disgust, his insistence that Henry never touch him like that in public, that their kisses and sighs had only ever been a game.

He'd been too proud to try and reach out again.

Henry ran his hand along the tiny dinner table. He thought of what Robbie had told him that afternoon at the coffee shop: queer kids find each other.

He didn't really know how he'd describe his sexuality. Bi, if he had to put a label on it. He'd never been asked, and it wasn't something that he could talk about at home. All he knew was that when he was a student, Leighton felt far more like home than his waspish, steely-gazed parents.

Women had taken his fancy, too; he'd dated others before giving in to his heartbreak and confining himself to this place. That hadn't been for show. He'd found them attractive and bright and clever.

But that was nearly half a lifetime ago. His only interactions in recent years had been emails to other staff and students, or late night chats with the god-damned Amazon machine. He had devoted himself to being a good professor, hoping that one day he might do something of artistic merit. 

He went to see musicals when people asked him to, even though it made him more and more uncomfortable to leave this place over time. He taught them well, and he was respectful and helpful to his colleagues. He had dedicated his life to it, all of it, twenty years of near-total solitude... knowing full well the way they must talk about him behind his back.

And then he's met her. Robbie: a person who could take heartbreak and dejection and loss and spin it into other people's laughter.

She had been able to live so openly; she had faced the prejudice he'd always run from, and she hadn't locked herself away. Instead, she opened herself further up, allowed him to see her fully, and helped him with his own pain in the meantime. Young and vivacious, but so much stronger than he had ever been. 

Years of solitude had aged him prematurely, but she made him feel young again. He'd not felt anything like it in decades.

Gently, gingerly, he placed the frame back into the drawer.

I wish I had a picture of her, too. Though it wouldn't do her justice.

In Henry's eyes, Robbie's beauty came in the form of her unabashed laugh; the way she stuck her tongue out when she was really concentrating; the wild flashings of her light eyes as she performed, bursting into glee, seething with sardonic wit, basking in her own vulnerability. She could do everything he couldn't.

She deserved somebody on her level: somebody strong and powerful, unafraid of life. He had come close to that; he had kissed her, and those two seconds had been the brightest he'd had in twenty years.

He had never wanted to make some clumsy pass at her. If he could go back and redo it all, they wouldn't have said another word to each other. They wouldn't have gone any further. They would have just sat side by side - maybe she would rest her tired head on his shoulder - and he would play for her.

But it wasn't a perfect world. He was far too afraid and she was quick to anger, defensive and bold, as she had every right to be. He was certain that she could never feel the same and yet there she was.

He sank into his couch, head resting back, staring up at the ceiling.

_ If this whole thing was a musical, we'd be about halfway through Act Two now. _

_ I've fucked up, I've lost the girl, and it would be time to try and change her mind. _

_ I'd put on my best clothes and I'd show up to the fancy event, and I'd ask for her forgiveness. A big romantic gesture. _

_ One last big number, a kiss, and then the curtain. Happy ever after. _

He took a deep breath. 

_ But life isn't a musical. I can't just show up and drop that on her. It's not right. _

He picked up a pen and a notepad.

_ If I want to make things right... I need to put in the work. _

And so, he began writing.

xx.xx


	20. All I've Ever Known

_**You take me in your arms** _

_**And suddenly there's sunlight all around me!** _

_**Everything bright and warm,** _

_**And shining like it never did before** _

\- 'All I've Ever Known,' _Hadestown_

xx.xx

She had false nails on.

They were black press-ons; she had bought them for a dollar and they were already peeling off, but she admired the feminine grace of her hands nonetheless.

Robbie rarely did anything with her nails - she had neither the money nor the patience – but an event like this called for a touch more glamour than she would usually be comfortable with. The whole hotel was a feast for the senses: candlelight, chandeliers, glinting damask wallpaper... She didn't know there was any place like this in the whole of Hatchetfield.

Drumming her fingertips on the bar, the little fingernail pinged off onto the floor, lost forever in the plush carpet.

Damn it.

A voice from behind her: "You okay?"

"Yeah." Robbie took a sip of rum and turned to look at her friend. "Are you?"

Sighing, Finn slumped against the bar, drunk with disappointment... And wine. "Yeah. I knew I wasn't gonna win, but... Can you believe I lost to another Judas from another production of Godspell?"

Robbie snorted. "I just can't believe that Zoey was in both of them."

"Right?!" Finn slid down the bar a little, wobbling before regaining his footing. "I mean— we had no idea. She's the one who proposed Godspell to the musical theatre club, too, she must've only done that because she already knew the role so she knew she would get it, it's just so selfish, I love musicals more than most but I swear to God this town is just obsessed with..."

Robbie kept nodding along but let her mind drift away from Finn's drunken rambling. Something felt amiss.

It wasn't that she felt out of place here, in this fancy hotel. She felt stunning in her gown, the floor-length black velvet that Finn had chosen, adorned with sparkling silver jewellery borrowed from his sister.

It's Henry. Henry should be here with me.

"Hey, there you are!" Melissa bounced into the room, her boundless energy not quite infecting Finn nor Robbie. "I've been looking for you! Wanna go dance?"

Robbie ran a hand through her thick, unruly hair, tangling it and getting her fingers stuck. It wasn't fair to Mel, this pining over the professor. After all, Robbie had invited her to come in his place.

She had already had to explain to her new date why her place at the table was marked with "Prof. Henry Hidgens", and worse still, why a bottle of wine had been delivered to their table just before the dessert course with a note: "For the best writing team since Gilbert & Sullivan, From your biggest fan, Finn xxx". An excruciatingly awkward surprise that he had forgotten to cancel.

"Mel... Sorry, yeah, let's—"

"Don't be sorry, I know you've had a tough week!" God, her optimism and patience were admirable, her voice sweet and clear as a ringing bell. Robbie had always been jealous of it, ever since they were small – her own was gravelly and low. "You should probably answer your phone anyway."

Robbie grunted, but deep down she felt a twang of hope. "Ugh, sorry. I'll silence it."

"No, look." Mel thrust the phone out, screen facing Robbie, and she clocked Henry's name instantly. "Maybe you should reply?"

  
  
  


"Is that from Professor Hidgens?" Finn swayed, squinting at the screen.

Melissa nodded, her perfectly curled ringlets bobbing.

Finn turned to Robbie, brow furrowed as if he were concentrating on some massive existential puzzle. "So... He's here?"

"I guess he's outside?" She shrugged, frowning if only to conceal a smile that she resented. "I'm not going out there to check."

Finn's frown deepened, he was a caricature of confusion. "Why?"

Melissa sidled forward, handing Robbie her phone. "...This feels like a thing for just you two. I'll just wait at the table."

Robbie nodded at the younger woman and waited until she was out of earshot. "Because. It's just going to get complicated if I do. I mean, what is he planning?"

Finn shrugged, growing more clumsy by the minute it seemed. "Maybe he just wants to see you."

"No. I won't. Maybe I should text and ask him to leave." Robbie clicked her phone onto silent, neglecting to check the screen for further messages. "He sent me that letter, he made it clear that we shouldn't have anything to do with another."

Finn folded his arms, raising his eyebrows like a disapproving teacher. "Okay, so... You know I love you, right?"

Robbie groaned. She knew what was coming: a Finn lecture. "Yeah."

"Well, I think part of loving somebody is telling them the truth. And hon... you're being way too stubborn right now."

Robbie shook her head, exasperated. "You're drunk, you don't know what you're talking about. I'm going home."

"This is why you and Hidgens deserve each other," He laughed, yanking her back to the bar by her hand. "You're both drama queens. Listen: ever since you came into his life he's found himself doing all this new shit, right? He's probably scared. You said it yourself: he pushed you away to protect you. I know he didn't do it in a great way, but it is New Year's Eve and he is a recluse. Not to mention the fact that there's meant to be a storm tonight. There'll be loads of people out in the street, loads of noise. If he's really here, do you realize how terrifying that probably is for him? If he's really here, that's what he thinks you're worth."

Robbie nervously nibbled on her nails, forgetting they were plastic and bending them out of shape. "Yeah."

"I'm not saying that you have to go out there and talk to him, because you don't. It is entirely your choice and your feelings are valid. If you want to ignore him, or cut him out of your life completely, do it. But I don't want you to wake up tomorrow and regret some big decision you made when you were tipsy and emotional, hm?"

Her face softened, and she sunk onto a bar stool. "Honestly, Finn..." Her tone had become hushed, lower. "I really don't want to do that. I want to see him. I want him to stick around. But that's the scariest part. I like him. I like him so, so much. Where do we go from here?"

"I dunno. But right now, I think you should go outside."

She looked at her phone. He hadn't sent any other messages. Hopefully, that meant he was still here. "You're a lot more insightful when you're drunk."

"I like to think it just makes me give less of a shit."

Robbie smirked, hopping from the stool and smoothing out her dress, "Apologize to Melissa for me - promise her I'll be back as soon as possible."

"She'll be fine." Finn took her face in his hand, pressing a sweet kiss to her forehead. "Now - go get him."

~~~

She hobbled down the stairs, slowed by the little kitten heels she'd so carefully chosen. 

"Fucking things," She scowled, kicking them off and scooping them up as she quickened her pace. She felt the plush carpeting under her feet and wondered for a passing moment what all these people must think. Cinderella on the steps of the palace, choosing to lose her slippers before the bell chimed midnight – in this case, that was about ten minutes away, and with it would be the dawning of a new year.

She barrelled through the double doors, their stained-glass concealing the misery outside. Heavy raindrops bounced from the pavement, soaking through her tights and freezing her toes.

"...Robbie?"

It was dark but there he was, completely soaked through, his hair plastered to his forehead. His suit jacket looked several pounds heavier, thick with water. He was shivering, clutching a parcel to his chest, bound in plastic bags.

"Henry, what are you doing here?" She called across the street, hoping he could hear her over the deluge.

"I--" He winced, as a particularly large droplet splashed on his head. She gestured for him to join him under the hotel's golden awning, and he awkwardly side-stepped and skipped over the looming puddles in the street between them. "I came," He panted once at her side, "To wish you a happy new year."

Robbie raised an eyebrow. "You couldn't have just done that in a text?"

He shook the parcel a little. "I also have something to give to you. A gift. I didn't give you anything on Christmas, so..."

"Thank you." Robbie took it from him with a small smile. "Sorry."

They stood in silence, unsure of what to say to one another but their hearts holding a million things to discuss.

"So..." Hidgens shuffled his feet. "Have you had a good night?"

"Yep. Finn didn't win his award, sadly, but we've had a great time regardless."

"Cool." He exhaled audibly, as if preparing himself for the actual point he was trying to get to: "I hope my ticket didn't go to waste, did you, uh, did you bring somebody else?"

Robbie caught his eye, and she saw the vulnerability, the innocence, that she had always been drawn to. "I did, but-"

Henry nodded furiously, clearly a desperate attempt to deflect his disappointment. "Oh. So, what's he like? Or-"

She snorted. "She's very nice. Melissa. She's sweet, patient... She's also younger than me."

Henry laughed; it was a good, genuine laugh; the beginnings of a mischievous joke glinted in those eyes now, but she expected that he must've been hurting. "That makes a change. Rumour has it that you have a thing for older people."

She smirked, she would have put his worries at ease immediately but she got swept away, beyond glad that they were falling back into their usual routine: the gentle teasing that had characterised their friendship. "I know, right? You should've seen the last guy I kissed. He was ancient."

Nodding, Henry exaggerated his intrigue for comic effect, knowing full well that she was referring to him. "Oh yeah, I think I heard something about that. What on Earth were you thinking?"

"I don't know." Robbie shrugged. "He didn't seem that much older. He looked super young, but turns out he was actually like ninety."

The Professor folded his arms at her humorous over-estimation, a display of fake irritation. "You sure? I heard he was closer to forty."

"Really?"

"Well..." he faltered. "Forty-five."

"He's forty-five, huh?" Robbie let the joke fall away for a moment, smiling at the genuine information.

"Yes, he is." Henry met her eyes, also losing the jovial tone. "And I heard that he ended things because you deserved someone better. Very selfless of him, if you ask me."

Robbie sighed. "I can see why you might think that. But I would've liked to have a say in the matter. I don't think it was fair of him to assume how I felt. Do you know what he said to me? He said that I only spent time with him because I pitied him."

"Didn't you?"

"Maybe a little bit, yeah. He was lonely, and I wanted to help, I guess. But that was far from the only reason I hung out with him." She looked at the professor, half challenging his previous words, half admiring his kind eyes, his dedication in coming to find her. "He's sweet and kind. Funny. Intelligent. And..." She shook her head, laughing. "And I'd very much like to stop talking about him in the third person now if that's okay."

"Oh God, same." He smiled a wistful, soft smile, and wiped the rain from his face, beginning to dry out a little now he was shielded from the sky by the hotel's shelter. "I'm so sorry things turned out this way. But I really am happy that you managed to get a new date to the ball. Not that I'm surprised, you're..." He seemed incapable of finding the correct word, instead gesturing vaguely at her. As if to say, You're you. "So, are you and Melissa dating, or...?"

"Yep." Robbie tried to conceal her sly smile. "Yep, I found someone new in six days. I'm in very high demand. All over Hatchetfield, people are just begging to date me."

Henry didn't pick up on the joke, instead awkwardly shuffling his feet, unsure of how to reply.

Robbie snorted, playfully punching him on the arm: a vast juxtaposition from the gentle caresses she craved. "Henry I'm joking. Mel is my cousin. She's got a huge crush on this guy in her office – Paul, I think his name is. She won't shut up about him. She's wildly heterosexual."

Henry laughed, and words tumbled from his mouth in an excitable rush: "Ha, can't relate."

Robbie cocked her head. Huh. "You can't?"

"Nope." Henry trembled slightly but quickly regained his composure. Coming out as queer, he decided, was much less dramatic than he'd expected for thirty years.

Even if he did come out by telling the woman he was falling for in the pouring rain. 

"Queer kids find each other." Robbie took his hand and squeezed it, and held his gaze for a moment. The last time she had held his hand was on Christmas Day, moments before disaster. "Christ, you're freezing. You shouldn't have come all this way."

"Perhaps I shouldn't have, but that has nothing to do with the weather." He squeezed her hand in return and he felt himself beginning to thaw, feeling returning to his fingertips. "I'm sorry if me being here is weird, I know that I'm probably not entirely welcome but I just- I made that you for you," He gestured toward the parcel, "And I wanted to give it to you before I chickened out."

Robbie squeezed the plastic-wrapped rectangle to her chest; it felt hard. "It's not weird that you came, and you're not unwelcome." She began to absentmindedly pick at the plastic, anxious to see what waited inside for her. "What happened on Christmas was... a lot for me. So I can only imagine how it affected you. I'm sorry if I've been standoffish, it's just been... It's just hard to... Y'know."

It's just hard to admit that you're falling for somebody.

Henry seemed to understand her perfectly. "I know." A moment of silence, then he nudged her arm. "It's getting close to midnight. Only a couple minutes left. You should get back to your party."

Robbie turned back toward the door, considering it, hesitating to walk away. "They can do without me for a little while. No. No, I think," She smirked, removing the plastic now, "That this should be the last thing I do all year."

The professor went to say something but stopped himself. Robbie could sense from his awkward shuffling and swaying that he clearly hadn't planned for her to open it in front of him.

As she removed the final layer she found herself holding a thick notebook with a deep navy cover, dotted with silver sparkles.

"It's- Uh, it's a songbook," He stammered, "Twenty songs and their lyrics. Songs that express how I... Well. Just read."

She turned it over and over again in her hands as if she were in a dream. She opened the front cover and it was just as he'd told her: twenty musical theatre songs, listed with page numbers and Roman numerals.

I: Something's Coming – West Side Story

II: In a Crowd of Thousands - Anastasia

III: By My Side - Godspell

IV: Forget About the Boy – Thoroughly Modern Millie

V: Bad Idea - Waitress

VI: You Never Know – If Then

VII: Funny Girl – Funny Girl

VIII: Only For You – Love Never Dies

IX: My Junk – Spring Awakening

X: You Matter to Me - Waitress

XI: History of Wrong Guys – Kinky Boots

XII: I'm An Ordinary Man – My Fair Lady

XIII: Falling Slowly - Once

XIV: Journey to the Past - Anastasia

XV: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas – Meet Me In St. Louis

XVI: Take A Chance On Me – Little Women

XVII: Being Alive - Company

XVIII: Once Upon Another Time – Love Never Dies

XIX: Dust and Ashes – Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812

XX: All I've Ever Known - Hadestown

She read through the list, grinning. She knew enough about musicals to recognise that most of them were love songs.

Hidgens scratched his head. "They don't all fit exactly well, but each of them includes at least a couple of lyrics that have felt relevant at some point. Some point since I met you." He watched her intently for a reaction, but she was too engrossed in reading the titles to give anything away.

He wondered if she would be any easier to read when she looked at the lyrics themselves when she saw his annotations, his notes to her, his little jokes and messages.

"The last one..." Robbie ran her finger down the list, and Henry noticed that the fingernail was a pristine, manicured black. "Why did you end with that one?"

"Well," Henry shuffled on the spot. "I suppose that one is how I feel about you right now. Or perhaps it's what I'd like to be able to say to you. I'm not sure, but it feels right."

"Hadestown." She looked to him, silver eyes sparkling. "That's about Orpheus and Eurydice, right?"

"Yes. Are you familiar with the myth?"

"I am."

"Well," He started, wanting to make a thousand profound statements but restricting himself to one: "I'd probably relate more to Orpheus, but her words here..." He turned to the page and pointed to the beginning of her verse. "Will tell you everything, in a much more eloquent way than I could probably come up with."

_ I was alone so long _

_ I didn't even know that I was lonely _

_ Out in the cold so long _

_ I didn't even know that I was cold _

_ Turned my collar to the wind _

_ This is how it's always been _

_ All I've ever known is how to hold my own _

_ But now I want to hold you, too _

At the side, in his scrawling handwriting:

"At his point in the show, she finally accepts how deep her feelings are, and decides to embrace him rather than push him away. Since Christmas, I've done the same. Orpheus and Eurydice's romance may be legendary, but I hope that you and I get a better ending: because, even if it means remaining your friend and nothing more, I'll be right by your side for as long as you'll let me."

He watched as she read. Midnight loomed nearer.

Robbie broke her gaze away from the book for the first time since opening it. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out, as if she was still processing what she was about to say.

In a paper-thin voice that threatened to break down into tears: "I wish I had a happy ending for you, but I don't. Life isn't a musical, Professor. Things rarely end tied up in a neat little bow."

He nodded in solemn understanding.

With shaky hands, Robbie flicked through the songbook – her songbook – catching glimpses of the lyrics he had chosen.

"In a crowd of thousands, I'd find you again."

"We love, we live, we give what we can give, and take what little we deserve."

"They say we are asleep until we fall in love, and I'm so ready to wake up now."

"No. Things rarely end tied up in a neat little bow. But..." She looked up at him, eyes gleaming with tears. "But that's what makes falling for somebody so powerful and so frightening. You know that it can devastate you, but you have a choice to make. You either let it in and give them the power to destroy you, just for a shot at that happy ending, or you turn away from it to save yourself."

The rain picked up, so heavy now that it seemed to come down in sheets. It began to leak through their shelter, and she hastily wrapped the book back up in plastic.

Henry stepped forward, closing the distance between them. The distant rolling thunder might as well have been white noise to him now, he paid it little mind.

It was now or never.

"On Christmas, I didn't-- That kiss, it wasn't just-" He sighed; there was no easy way to say it. "I didn't just want you physically. I wasn't acting on impulse. I know that I wrote this in my letter, Robbie, but I was trying to be an eloquent little shit, so... When I said that I'm charmed by you, what I really meant to say is that I—"

"I love you."

Silence. The rumbling storm passing overhead seemed to pause, as if just for them. The air didn't lose its electricity, however; it seemed to crackle with the aftermath of what had been uttered.

"Yes." He spoke the word as if it were a confession of guilt. "Yes, Robbie. That's what I was trying to say. And I'm sorry if that's confusing; I'm sorry if I'm being too-"

"No, you misunderstand." She cupped his face in her hands, caressing the cheek with her thumb, grinning although near-ice water trickled down her own. "I love you, Henry."

"...Oh."

She pulled him toward her, their second kiss of what she hoped would be many more: warm and comforting beyond belief, even though they were now drenched by the breakthrough downpour. Somewhere, she heard the distant chiming of midnight.

"Happy New Year, Robbie." He murmured, forehead pressed to hers.

"2018." She grinned, head swimming, heart singing. "Let's hope it's a good one."

"I don't care," He pulled her closer, for yet another kiss: as if he were a man making up for lost time. "Even if the end of the world did come this year, I think I'd die happy."

xx.xx


	21. Promises

**Don't promise me fair sky above  
Don't promise me kind road below  
Just walk with me, my love  
Any way the wind blows**

**\- 'Promises', _Hadestown_**

**xx.xx**

"Does anyone else have any thoughts on _War and Peace_ before we end today's seminar?" 

Professor Carroll stalked around the group, eyes flicking between each of the downright drowsy literature students. 

They should be refreshed, invigorated! After all, the Winter break had just ended - surely they ought to have rested well. This was the logical answer, however, and Carroll knew that for all their intelligence and study, students were rarely logical.

She could tell from the dark shadows under their eyes and their lethargy: they had likely spent the whole month partying. She didn't blame them, of course. She would have done the same, had she been their age. 

Trying to get them to discuss Tolstoy had been like trying to get blood from a stone. For two hours they had sat in awkward silence, mumbling the odd half-hearted analysis of Helene Kuragina's actions, or a lazy evaluation of the role of moon imagery. 

One of them, however, had surprised her this session. It wasn't that Robbie Franks was _bad_ at English - she just always seemed so far away, her silver eyes on the text but not quite focused on the words.

But today, she was present. She was awake. She was the only one of them who seemed to really be listening, thinking, feeling. 

Carroll knew that Robbie had been dealing with some difficulties, during the last semester and throughout the whole of her life, really - and wondered with a smile whether this meant things were starting to look up for her. She listened to the girl talk about the novel's themes, lofty ideas about life, love loss - it was as if she had been living on autopilot and had finally switched it off, taking control of the wheel for the first time in months. 

The girl's hand rose again, and Carroll smiled. _May as well let her have the final point._

"Yes, Robbie?"

"Sorry, this isn't about the novel itself, but..." She set the book down, maintaining eye contact now. "Did you know that they turned part of it into a musical?"

"I did not."

"Yeah, someone, uh, someone recommended it to me recently. One of Denisov's lines from early in the text..." She flicked through the first few pages. "Yep, it's this line from Volume One: _'W_ _e sleep when we don't love. We are children of the dust'._ It's actually given to Pierre in the stage show."

Carroll leaned again the desk, arms folded. "And?" 

_"And..._ I think that gives us a pretty interesting insight into Pierre's psyche. He believes the world is ending, right? He talks about it as if he almost _wants_ it to happen. He feels that he's wasted his life and needs a second chance but can't put a finger on why. By giving that line to Pierre we get to understand _why_ more clearly. It's because he's trapped in this loveless marriage. He's never felt real love so he's still asleep; he's alone, he's uh..." The girl smiled at something unknown with a warm playfulness. "He's basically a recluse."

Carroll nodded. She was onto something here. "And does that change?"

Robbie paused for a moment, looking upward, turning the book over and over in her hands. "Yes. Because... because at first, he talks about the end of the world and his death almost fondly. But later, when the comet comes - a comet which is actually meant to foretell the end of everything - he sees it as the beginning of a new life instead, because he's finally realized his love for Natasha. If we believe what Denisov says then Pierre has finally woken up. Because of love."

The Professor nodded thoughtfully, attempting to hide her pleasure at the girl's breakthrough. "Interesting. Can you find me a quote as evidence for that claim?"

"Uhhhh... Here!" Robbie pointed at the passage, then began to read. "' _Only looking up at the sky did Pierre cease to feel how sordid and humiliating were all mundane things compared with the heights to which his soul had just been raised. At the entrance to the Arbát Square, an immense expanse of dark starry sky presented itself to his eyes.'"_

Carroll came down from the desk, walking over to Robbie and sitting down next to her. "So in _War and Peace -_ and this musical you've mentioned - the end of the world is symbolized by what?"

Robbie fumbled for words. "Um... The comet?"

"Be certain."

The younger woman nodded. "The comet."

Carroll smiled, not attempting to conceal it now. "And the promise of love is symbolized by...?"

"Stars."

"And those two things look rather similar, don't they?" 

"Yes."

"So," Carroll began, watching the realization in her student's eyes, a sight that she believed she would never tire of. "Could it be argued that Tolstoy uses that star imagery to make love and doom almost indistinguishable from each other? After all - Natasha is nearly doomed by her love for Anatole. Pierre believes that he's doomed by his _lack_ of love. The starlight either brings untold horrors, or it brings transformative love. Perhaps it's down to the reader's perspective to decide which."

Robbie nodded. "Maybe it's both?"

Carroll suddenly stood, the loud scraping sound of her chair knocking the rest of the class from their sleepy stupor. "That's something for you to decide. But thank you for your observations, Robbie. And also thank whoever got you onto that musical for me - it's clearly got you thinking."

The students began shuffling about, gathering their things into their backpacks, readying themselves to ignore their next classes. Robbie grinned, an alertness in her that she hadn't felt in some time.

"I'll let my boyfriend know."

~~~

Robbie lay on the cracked leather couch, listening to the musical notes floating through the air, their path cleared by the comfortable silence that seemed to have settled into the very foundation of the small house. 

They ceased, and she turned around to look upward at the face above her. "I liked that one."

"Yeah?"

"Mm-hm." She snuggled into his chest, warm and broad: the scent of washing powder. Total serenity. "Play it again?"

He chuckled, stroking her hair. "We'll never get through the whole album if you keep just replaying the parts you like. We listened to Epic III about six times."

She shrugged, sighing. "Why not? Besides: _Damon Daunno's voice."_

Hidgens clearly didn't need any more convincing than that. "True." He planted a soft, sweet kiss at the top of her head, before reclining and closing his eyes. "Alexa, play _Promises."_

Robbie snorted as the robot voice responded, harsh and clear before the velvety smooth guitar resumed. "Hey, so..." She started, coaxing Henry from his reverie to look at her. "A weird thing happened today."

"Yes?"

"I was in my Russian literature seminar, talking about War and Peace. And not gonna lie, I absolutely killed it talking about Pierre."

Henry grinned. "That's not weird; you're extremely intelligent. Not to mention the fact that we spent all last night listening to Great Comet."

"Well, that's just it." She sat up a little. "I told Professor Carroll about that show, and she said that she wanted to thank whoever got me to listen to it. And I said, uh--" She faltered at the sight of his kind, warm smile. 

One week ago they had stood on the steps of the nicest hotel in town, under the golden-roofed awning, wet through with ice-cold rain and admitted their love for each other. 

She didn't know what she had expected to come next; maybe for him to take her back to his house and spend their first night together, as passionate and dramatic as their declarations had been.

Instead, he had wished her a good night, insisting that she go back inside lest she catch a cold. She ought to spend the rest of the night consoling Finn and dancing with her cousin, he had said, before adding that he would call her the next day.

And that's what happened. They arranged to spend time together at his place and had done so every night that week. They hadn't been _intimate;_ they would simply lounge in the main room, maybe have a drink, and listen to music. They often cuddled, like tonight. 

They would talk about everything: musicals, food, the end of the world, childhood pets. Well, everything except what exactly had been said that night at the hotel, which instead was acknowledged through innocent caresses and gentle kisses. Then, as the early morning hours crept in, Robbie would call for a taxi and head back to her apartment where she would, more often than not, lie awake for another hour thinking of him.

"I referred to you as my boyfriend."

His eyes widened. "I see."

"And I just-" She took his hand in her own. "I just said that without _thinking_ , because of what we said on New Year's, and because of the way we've been since then. But I-"

He swiftly stopped her stuttering with a kiss to her lips. "I'm sorry if I didn't make myself clear enough when I traveled for miles in the rain to give you a book of personalized love songs," He smirked slyly, brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, "But yes, I would very much like to be in an exclusive relationship with you."

She gazed at him. These moments already seemed like one of her dreams, but her subconscious could never have painted them with such clarity, such texture: the now-faraway music, the cool leather against her skin, the warmth of his chest and the softness of his hand in hers. She didn't know what to say, and with a jolt, she realized she was tearing up.

"Sorry, I know I'm being dumb." 

" _Hey_. You're never 'dumb'. You're an intelligent, confident, resilient young woman," He broke into a grin, wiping away one of her errant tears with the sleeve of his jumper, a roll-neck. "And you're my _girlfriend._ My significant other. My gal. Better half. Partner. Inamorata."

"I just know that it's happened fast, and- and relationships haven't ended well for me recently, so--"

Another topic they hadn't touched upon: past partners.

"They've not ended well for me either. Nor have they been particularly _recent_. But I'm not going anywhere, I promise. And as for things going fast, well..." He shook his head a fraction, deciding how to word it. "I'm not a man who falls in love often, but nor do I fall in love slowly. You won't frighten me away. I've broken twenty-year-long lonely streak for you."

She snuggled into his chest, no worrying thoughts left to say, her last tears soaking into the fabric of his jumper and quickly drying. She lay there for a peaceful moment, listening as the song faded out and _Wait For Me II_ began to play. "Mm. You know, I think I like the word _partners_ better than 'boyfriend and girlfriend.'"

"Is it because I'm not a _boy?_ You can call me your manfriend if you like." Hidgens chuckled. "No, you're right. I like it too. It works on a couple of different levels: we're writing partners, romantic partners... Uhh..."

_Sexual_ _partners?_

Robbie almost choked on her own intrusive thought.

_Shut up brain! You're not even right because we aren't - we haven't-- We've never\-- _

"Wow, it's getting late!" She sat up abruptly, grabbing her phone. "I should probably make my way home after we finish listening to the album." She didn't want to, of course - she wanted to stay here with him, listening to music, but the salacious thoughts now flooding through her mind were enough to jolt her out of that peacefulness.

_He's literally just said that he's been alone for over twenty years._

_Maybe he hasn't... **been** with anyone in over twenty years._

He flushed a pale pink, a blush to rival Robbie's own. She practically felt him grow warmer. "Do you have class tomorrow?"

_Oh shit, did he think the same thing as me?_

"N-no."

He wriggled in his seat, clearly feeling somewhat uncomfortable by what he was about to suggest - but determined to do so regardless. "So you, uhh... Don't have to go home." He looked to her, the same intensity beginning to take hold in his expression that had been apparent the day he'd first kissed her at the piano. "...Not if you don't want to."

She swallowed hard. "I mean... It, uh- it _is_ late. And those taxis aren't cheap. S-so..." Her breathing became heavy, her cheeks so hot she imagined for a fleeting moment that they must have been glowing crimson. "I will if that's okay."

"Of course." He kissed her forehead ever so gently, but she could feel the tension he held in his body, the shallowness of his breaths. He reclined back onto the couch, sighing slightly, and she resumed her position, laying with her head on his chest. 

Except now, she could barely hear the music over the hammering of his heart.

_There are two and a half songs left until this album ends._

_And then what?_

In her head, the distant rhythm of the song blurred with his heartbeat. She felt nervous, sure: but also excited, safe, loved.

_Then we'll just see what happens, I guess._

xx.xx


	22. The Word of Your Body

**Holding her hand like some little tease**   
**Haven't you heard the word of my wanting?**   
**Oh, I'm gonna be wounded**   
**Oh, I'm gonna be your wound**

\- 'The Word Of Your Body,' _Spring Awakening_

**xx.xx**

The last few notes floated into the ether, leaving a pause in their wake.

"And that," Henry murmured, gazing down at his partner with a smile, "Was _Hadestown_."

The past week had been more dreamlike than anything he'd experienced before. In these moments with her, his world became hazy, slow-moving: syrupy sweet mouthfuls of something he never imagined he'd be able to try a taste of. Love.

But with that syrup came sickliness. It wasn't that he was sick of the time he spent with _her_ , of course. He had pined after her for months now; he believed that for her to even want to spend time with him was some kind of cruel trick the Universe was playing before it snuffed itself out.

That was just it, though. It was his growing sense that everything would soon come to an end that caused the taste to catch in his throat, to choke him.

What if he fucked up and she left him?

That wouldn't be so bad in itself, of course, for he still hadn't quite let go of the notion that she deserved someone more than himself, someone brighter, handsomer, _better_.

The problem, really, would be that if they broke things off and the world fell apart soon after, she might not come _here_. He knew that his house was a safe place: physically, nothing would be able to harm her here if things became dangerous. At least when they were just friends, he believed that she would turn to him in a time of crisis.

But what if he pushed her away from here with his eccentricities, his inexperience...?

And even if she _did_ stay here - what if something bad happened to her, and he couldn't stop it? What if something bad happened to _him,_ and she was left behind, marooned here alone just as he had been for decades? What if, when he actually faced the end times, he made some impulsive, fear-driven decision and--

_Stop it. She's here now._

_You're distracting yourself because you're afraid of the future._

_You're afraid of what might... happen tonight._

_Breathe, Henry._

_Focus on her, not on your theories._

He listened to his own advice; he knew that it would work to put his anxieties at rest, even for a little while. He loved to see her like this: her eyes closed, the ghost of a smile on her lips as she listened intently to the music he loved, entirely at peace.

"What did you think?"

"I liked it," Robbie smiled, eyes opening a crack, lazily reaching up to touch his cheek: a clumsy caress of his cheekbone.

Henry held her small hand against his face, chuckling. "Are you tired?"

She had to admit, her eyelids _were_ beginning to grow a little heavy. "Not at all."

"I don't believe you. Maybe you should get to bed." She felt him shift in his seat, gently coaxing her to sit up. "Do you want me to - um-" He grew flushed again, his nervous energy returning in spades. "I'm just going to..."

He gestured vaguely down the hall; she raised an eyebrow.

"I mean my bedroom is untidy, so." He was standing now, pacing a little about the small lounge, staccato and tense. "It's covered in half-written papers so I'm just going to tidy it before you go in- Unless you'd prefer to stay in one of the spare rooms? I mean there's several to choose from, all fully-furnished. You'd probably quite like the room next to mine, I'm n-not a great interior designer by any stretch but I-I-I..." He stopped in his tracks, shuffling on the spot, his focus fluttering all over the room but never quite landing upon her face.

" _Henry_." Robbie hopped up from the couch, stepping forward to take his hands in her own, giving them a comforting squeeze as his eyes finally met hers. "Henry, hey, it's alright. I promise I don't mind. I can go home."

He took one deep breath, and then, in a husky tone barely louder than a whisper: "But I don't want you to." His grip tightened slightly, a muscle in his jaw flickered.

"Okay." Robbie took another step, closing the gap between them, rubbing his upper arm reassuringly. "If you're sure, I'll stay the night."

He knew what that could mean for them. She could tell by the growing intensity of his gaze, the way his chest quickly rose and fell, in, then out. A tide, ebbing and flowing.

He was so intelligent, so bright and talented. He was older, an established academic, a man of erudite wit and eccentricity. Yet Robbie knew instinctively that this was a subject she was far better versed in, and she had to make her next moves carefully.

Of course, the last thing she wanted at that moment was to be logical. After all, she felt the same _something_ tugging at her core. Whilst her mind searched for the exact right thing to say to the man stood in front of her, her blood thumped and sang just as his did, but she knew she had to remain measured for his sake.

What to say?

"I'm happy to stay. But - I think there's an elephant in the room."

He nodded, lips curving into a half-grimace, half-smirk, like an embarrassed schoolboy. "You could say that."

"I just want you to know that - in terms of _that_ \- there's no pressure." She stepped backwards. It felt so unnatural, like the prying apart of two magnets, but it had to be done to dampen the escalating tension. "Maybe we should talk about it."

"Yes." He nodded. "We should."

Robbie led him back to the sofa where they sat, cross-legged and comfortable, hand-in-hand. She needed to make a joke, the urge rising in her like a sneeze - an instinct whenever something felt awkward or too serious. "So, when a man and a woman love each other very, very much..."

Clearly not expecting this, Henry broke out into laughter. "Are you really about to give me the birds and the bees talk? You know, I _am_ a biology professor. I do know a thing or two."

Robbie smirked. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. For example..." His voice grew low and deep, and he leaned in close. "The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell."

Now it was Robbie's turn to laugh. "Ooh, fascinating, but I don't see how that's relevant to our love life."

He leaned forward still, turning about so that he lay with his head on her chest. "Okay, okay - so what _would_ be relevant?" She absentmindedly began to stroke his mop of silver hair. "What do you want to talk about?"

She took a deep breath. "I don't know what your situation or your experiences have been, and I don't want to presume, but you said earlier tonight that it's been 20 years...? I'm only asking because I don't want to do or say anything that makes you uncomfortable, but... What I'm trying to ask is—"

A weary sigh. "It's been a long time. A very long time."

He reclined his head further, nudging the hand stroking his hair. He reminded Robbie of an affectionate cat being pet, all nuzzling and warm. How long had it been since somebody had touched him, she thought? Not just _intimately_ , but in any way: before she had come along, how long had it been since he'd felt light touches on his arm, had a hand to hold?

"Is it something you miss?"

"I _didn't_ miss it. My sexuality was something I thought I should be frightened of, not _explored_. When I was younger than you are now, I had the only relationship I've ever had. When it ended horribly with him, I suppose I swore off intimacy in all its forms. Intimacy was time wasted lounging on a mattress, time that could be better spent educating myself on how to find clean water, or stocking up on food, studying the latest science so that I might better identify any epidemic before it could pose a real threat, I--"

"But you take time out to write music."

"Maybe I was just afraid of being hurt like that again, especially when being with him left me so vulnerable." He turned to her now, nudging a strand of hair from her face. "To answer your question, I _didn't_ miss it. Past tense. I convinced myself it wasn't something I wanted, but that's not true. Not anymore."

"Okay. Okay." Robbie's tone was soft and warm despite her thumping heart, more comforting than she knew she was capable of: it was usually her that needed to be soothed. "So, if he was the only one...?"

"Yes. _He_ was the only real relationship I've ever had. In all regards. So..."

Robbie nodded, slowly, surely, as she came to the point he was shuffling toward. "I'd be the first woman? In, uh... _that_ regard?"

"Yeah." He ran a hand through his hair, already ruffled by Robbie's playing with it. "Does that weird you out?"

She took his cheek in her hand, brushing his cheekbone again with her thumb. "Of course not." And it truly didn't. Robbie had expected that their levels of experience might differ, after all. She had never been one to judge. "Have you been worried that it would turn me away?"

" _Well_ ," He couldn't seem to stop his lips from curving into a little mischievous smile. "You didn't spend your early twenties locked away as I did, so I'm assuming that you... Umm..." He gestured vaguely.

"Slept around?" Robbie snorted.

The Professor winced. "I wouldn't put it like _that_. I would say, 'Expressed yourself'."

She smirked in reply, trying to remain cool as possible on the outside but anxiety surging within. Robbie was a true believer in the adage that it was her body and therefore her choice to do with it as she pleased, and so she had.

"Well... Yeah. I think I went in the opposite direction to you; I lost nearly everything because of my sexuality so I guess I thought, 'Fuck it, I owe it to myself to explore that side of me.'" She stopped still for a moment, trying to detect any hint of disapproval or resentment in his face, as she had come across with partners before: there was none. Instead, he simply listened, nodding, understanding. "And I don't regret that. I'm proud of my choices."

"As you should be." He squeezed her hand and she may as well have melted at the pure acceptance in that gesture alone. "I suspected that you might be more experienced than I am - it's not exactly difficult - but I'm really out of practice. Saying that, I was never really _in_ practice, so... I've just been _scared_ that I might not be..."

Robbie stopped his stuttering with the gentlest of kisses. The sensation was still new enough that it gave her butterflies, as she suspected it would for a long time to come.

"It's alright to be a little scared, but I promise there's nothing to be afraid of. Because we're not going to do anything at all until you're totally sure and ready, and even then, we take it at your pace. Okay?"

He leaned in for another kiss, letting go of a breath that seemed weightier than all of the evening's sighs combined. " _Okay_. Sorry. I would have said something earlier, but it's hard to admit something like that. I mean, usually, it's meant to be the man who takes the lead on these things, we're supposed to be the side that always wants to, right?"

"Henry, consent is consent, it doesn't matter who you are. Besides, you're a bisexual biologist professor-slash-composer twenty years my senior. Our relationship is far from traditional; we won't start with gender roles."

"That is a _very_ good point." He laughed, took a moment, then looked into her eyes again. "So, do you still want to stay? Even if we don't... go _there_ tonight?"

"Of course I do. We'll have a sleepover! We can stay up late and listen to more music, talk about Broadway, our show." She stood up and gestured for him to join her; he enveloped her smaller frame in an embrace. "And don't worry about your room being untidy; you should see my damn apartment."

"I have to come to visit. Stops you from having to come here all the time."

"As much as I love your _fortress_ ," She nudged him in the side. "That'd be nice."

"Well, we could do something tomorrow evening, if you're free. We could go downtown, get dinner. A proper date."

"Okay, but don't push yourself. Never feel like you have to leave the house on my behalf." They began heading to his room, his arm still secured around her waist. It felt so comforting, so secure. "I'm sure Finn would like to see you soon too, he went absolutely crazy when he found out we got together."

"Well, you should invite him. Danny, too: we still haven't met." Henry leaned against the wall, one hand on his bedroom door handle, the other still on her hip.

Robbie shot him a playfully suspicious side-eye. "That's incredibly outgoing for you."

He squeezed her hip hard, pulling her forward into a kiss that held more urgency in it than usual, his hands snaking around her waist.

He broke away but held her close, pressed tight against him. She could feel the warmth of his body, the breadth of his shoulders and chest. She thought about how tonight she would be able to snuggle up next to him, feel that warmth next to her as she slept.

Maybe they would share more of these more urgent kisses; they might whisper 3 am confessions; experience that rare breed of familiarity and openness that only came when lying next to somebody in the early hours of the morning.

"It might not be much, but for _me..."_ He opened the door. "It's downright adventurous."


	23. Unlikely Lovers

**_Look at us_ **   
**_Four old friends_ **   
**_Four unlikely lovers_ **   
**_We don't know what time will bring_ **

**\- 'Unlikely Lovers',** **_Falsettos_ ** ****

**xx.xx**

"Are you ready?"

"Yeah." Finn spun around, checking out his outfit from every angle in Robbie's mirror: his go-to style, a cute patterned jumper and jeans. "You?"

"Not even a little bit." Robbie strode over to the mirror, nudging him out of the way, frantically pulling the dress on over her head before quickly realizing that she was stuck. "Uhh... Little help?"

"You know," he started, tugging the black cotton downward until his friend's head popped out, her face obscured by the mane of dark, frizzy hair she had tried to straighten to no avail. "You always make us late to stuff. You've had all day to get ready."

"But I couldn't decide what to wear. This is our first date that isn't at his house, I wanted to look _nice_." Robbie huffed, grabbing a comb and pulling it through the knots. "And now I won't have time to do my makeup properly. I'll have to settle for just eyeliner, but..." She looked about her room, trying to spot it among the organised chaos in which she lived. "Shit, have you seen it?"

"Rob, relax." Finn passed her the half-empty tube and she started on her signature cat-eye flicks. "It's not like you have to win him over anymore..." He shimmied a little, like an excitable dog unable to stop himself from waggling his tail. "Now that you're _together_. _Ahh!_ _"_

He clapped his hands and did a little dance on the spot, and Robbie couldn't help but join in with his awkward flailing, with only one of her eyes made up.

"Okay okay okay..." Finn composed himself and checked his phone. "So Danny is gonna be here in five to pick us up, and we'll grab Hidgens on the way to the restaurant. Are you gonna be ready?"

"Of course," Robbie replied, half-dressed, half-made up, hair unbrushed and searching high and low for a clean pair of socks. "Who do you take me for?"

~~~

"Well _hello_ , handsome." Finn purred as he and Robbie got into the car, leaning over to kiss his partner on the cheek.

The two men looked to be opposites, but it hadn't stopped them from being entirely (at points disgustingly) in love with each other for over a year. Finn always looked to be the definition of cosy, always in jewel-toned knitwear, bronze-rimmed specs perched on the end of his pale, freckled nose, his auburn curls fluffed up to perfection.

Danny, on the other hand, positively _oozed_ cool: he was an athlete, broad-shouldered and tall, never seen out of his varsity jacket. His black coiled hair was always immaculately groomed, his dark skin always flawless.

He cringed at Finn's kiss. "You're late. And ew," he joked, before giving him an even bigger smooch.

He looked in his driver's mirror and shot Robbie an excitable look as she climbed into the back seat. "Well well well, if it isn't the _girlfriend_ of the esteemed Professor Hidgens."

The word sent a warm tingle rushing through her veins. Yes, they had admitted their feelings for one another, and yes, she had spent last night with him (a fact that she had neglected to tell Finn; she knew that she wouldn't have fulfilling answers to his probing questions - the couple had done nothing more than talk), but being visibly, openly together in public was a new frontier that sparked a beautiful kind of anxiety within her. Hope.

" _Girlfriend_. God, that sounds so strange." She reached around for her seat belt.

"It's new! It probably _will_ feel weird for a while." Danny returned his focus to the road, pulling the car away from Robbie's battered apartment complex and starting down the street. "I remember when I first asked Finn out, I slipped him a note in study hall. I was so nervous. You remember that, babe?"

"Mm-hm." Finn rolled his eyes. "I also remember ignoring it. And I recall the _second_ time when you waited for me at the stage door after my senior year showcase and asked me for my autograph."

"And you left. But third time's the charm!"

"Well, that's because on your third attempt you just slid into my DMs like a normal person. Besides," He wiggled his eyebrows at Robbie in the mirror. "I had to shut you up somehow."

Danny chuckled. "So, I've heard it all from Finn but I wanna hear it from you, Robbie: how did you and the Professor get together?"

She watched as grey Hatchetfield streets speed past her window.

It was a dull place to live, really. Yes, it had everything somebody might need to live a somewhat fulfilling life: offices, malls, schools, the university. But there was an underlying malevolence to the place at times; an epidemic apathy in its citizens.

Maybe it was the same back home in Clivesdale; maybe it was the same in every small town in America: the slowly dawning realization that there wasn't much more to life than _this_. Office jobs, shitty coffee from the shop on the corner, the daily grind.

It was no wonder that so many of the people she'd met here seemed harsh, or unkind, or eager to escape - when that was impossible, they turned to musicals or material goods for their comfort.

But then there was Henry.

"He showed up at Finn's ceremony last week, on New Year's Eve. We kissed on Christmas Day, but I thought we weren't going anywhere... But he showed up that night. It was raining hard, and he was soaked through, but he'd brought me this book. He'd written all these song lyrics in it that described how he felt, and I told him- I told him that I loved him."

If Hatchetfield was a vast dull void, Henry was its starlight. Scattered, unpredictable, faraway but beautiful in its difference.

"I know that it seems too soon for me to say that. And I know that it's a little unorthodox nowadays to just jump straight into a relationship without properly dating, but... What could I learn from dating him that I don't know already? Maybe that's naive; I don't know. He still surprises me with the odd things he says; he talks about the end of the world as if its really coming and sometimes as he _wants_ it to. He's afraid of a lot, but when you watch him talk about something he loves, all that fear disappears. And that's what happens when he talks to me. That was it. That was all I needed."

...

"Well shit," Danny piped up, after a few moments of silence. "That's _way_ more romantic than passing somebody a note in study hall."

~~~

It would have made more far sense to meet the professor at the restaurant - after all, Henry's place was right on the edge of town - but Robbie didn't want him to worry about using public transport, and Danny didn't mind the drive.

After she'd fielded several more questions about him ("Okay but like, what is he a professor _of?"_ "Does the age gap bother you?" "He's writing a musical about _what_ now?") they finally arrived, pulling up to those tall metal gates that she had become incredibly fond of. The sight of them meant that he wasn't far away, after all.

He appeared at the foot of the driveway, hesitantly exiting the front door and locking it about twenty times behind himself. Even at a distance, Robbie could tell he'd made a real effort: his hair was perfectly coiffed, he had exchanged his usual sweater for a white button-up shirt and dark blazer. He hovered at the door before making his way over to the car in an awkward half-jog.

"He's so weird," Finn whispered, his tone more appreciative than mocking.

"He absolutely is," Robbie smiled, swinging the car door open as Henry neared and scooting across so he could get in. "Hey!"

"Hi." He paused for a beat, seemingly deciding how to greet her; he gave her a strangely formal pat on the arm. Robbie could tell he was nervous. It could have been the prospect of leaving the house, or meeting new people, or perhaps the fact that this was their first real _date._ Whatever the case, she squeezed his hand and gave him a look: _everything is going to be okay._

He squeezed again before turning his attention to the men in the front seats. "Hello, Finn."

Finn was, as Robbie had feared he would be, basically quaking with excitement: "Hi Professor! It's _very_ nice to see you, especially considering everything that's happened recently. I've gotta admit - you and Robbie are my _ultimate_ OTP."

Hidgens looked at him blankly for a moment. "I... Am not sure what that means, but thank you. And you must be Danny?"

"That's me." Dan's warm voice seemed to put Henry further at ease. "It's nice to meet you, professor. I've heard a lot about you."

"Oh god, you have?" Hidgens sank a little into the padded seat. "Good things?."

"Great things," Danny kept his attention on the road, but Robbie could hear his smile in his tone. "In fact, Robbie's been talking about you non-stop for _months_ now."

Now it was Robbie's turn to sink with embarrassment. "So who's excited about dinner? I know I am!"

Her attempts at a change in topic went noticed but ignored: "Has she really, now?" Henry turned toward her, his face alight with gently smug self-satisfaction. "And what kind of things has she been telling you?"

"Ooh," Finn twisted around, assuming his position for what Robbie anticipated to be a whole car-ride of gossip, at her expense. "The night that you two met, she told me that she thought you were very handsome."

"Oh _did_ she?"

It was an interesting car ride, to say the least.

Still, Robbie was thrilled by how the evening was going. She felt cute, Henry looked _extremely_ good, and Finn and Danny were keeping him thoroughly entertained by sharing fairly embarrassing stories of her. Nothing too mortifying; just enough to let him feel like one of the gang. He would shoot her the odd anxious glance, but a joke from Finn and a squeeze of her hand seemed to be enough to satiate him.

They entered the restaurant in an excited gaggle, Robbie pretending to object to the story of her awful first kiss - a story that included a set of braces, a caught lip, and a fair amount of blood - before reaching the host, where they waited to be seated.

The man's focus was downward, he shuffled menus, shoulders slouching. How many of you?" He mumbled, little more than his shock of blonde hair visible.

"Table for four, please."

The host looked up. His already sour expression immediately fell further, his brows knit together with a barely-concealed resentment, thunder in his face.

" _Oh_." He smiled weakly, maliciously. It looked as if it had taken every ounce of his strength to pretend to be even vaguely happy to see her. "Hi, Robbie."

"...Hi, Scott."

**xx.xx**


	24. Time Stops

**That boy is staring and I feel a chill, I don't know why  
That boy is staring and the world is still**

**\- 'Time Stops', _Big Fish_**

**xx.xx**

Robbie felt as if she had been plunged headfirst into a pool of ice water. Each one of her nerves burned with acute cold pain, her chest breathless, her head swimming.

As soon as she had seen his face, it was as if time had frozen in place. This couldn't be real. It shouldn't be real. Her mind floated away from her body, the chatter of the other diners felt muted, crackling with static.

She barely noticed a hand on the small of her back.

"Hey, shh. Don't worry. We're going." It was Finn. He had instantly swept toward her, as soon as his own mind had processed who stood in front of them. "Come on, we'll just go someplace else."

Robbie stared at him, eyes wide and afraid, rooted to the spot as if her feet were submerged in a block of cement. She looked over Finn's shoulder: Scott simply stared at her, his handsome eyes stone-cold, clearly unsure of what to say himself.

That is before he snapped his attention to the professor. "Don't I know you?"

Henry shuffled ever so slightly, and through the haze of confusion, Robbie recognised that tension was building in his frame and his countenance - he was about to panic.

Now it was Dan's time to come to the couple's rescue. "Professor, Finn's right. We should leave."

"You're a _professor?_ "

Everyone in the group usually said Henry's title with such warmth that it sounded inherently wrong coming from Scott, as sharp as glass and spoken like an accusation.

Robbie was disassociating to the point that the whole situation felt like an out-of-body experience. Amidst the swirling mess of anxiety, shock, and worry, she watched with wide eyes as Henry's jaw clenched, his upper body tensed and he replied: " _Yes_. I'm a professor. I don't see your point."

Until now, their exchange had been scored by the general conversation of the diners in the small restaurant. Now, as Scott and Henry's voices grew in intensity, the background buzz began to dwindle. Robbie feared that her heart hammered so hard, so loud _,_ that everyone in the building would be able to hear it.

The blonde-haired boy smirked, "That night at the theatre, the last time I saw Robbie... That's where I've seen you before, isn't it?"

Henry tensed further. "I - I think so."

Finn stepped in front of Robbie, arms crossed like an exasperated mother. "I don't see what that has to do with anything, Scott. What are you even doing here, anyway? I thought you'd been kicked out of your apartment, I--"

"I _did_." Scott shot a frosty, accusatory glance at Robbie. "My parents were so pissed off, they've refused to let me move back in. I asked my Aunt Linda, but she's already got four kids so she said she was too busy. And believe it or not, _Finn_ , most companies aren't jumping at the chance to hire a college dropout who was accused of a whole bunch of bullshit. Lakeside Mall was the only place shitty enough not to care, and hey, a guy's gotta make rent somehow. We can't all have a sugar daddy to look after us."

Robbie stepped forward. She refused to allow these men (as much as she loved them dearly) to speak for her any longer. "What the _hell_ are you talking about?"

"Well," Scott continued, the whole restaurant now focusing their attention on the unfolding drama. "That's clearly what's going on here, right? I saw you cosying up to each other as you walked in. _You_ -" He pointed at the professor, a sly, sadistic smile still twisting its way upward, "Are screwing my ex. And I'm guessing in return you're paying her way through school, or help her get better grades or something, right?"

Danny shook his head in disbelief. "You are _such_ a piece of shit, Scott."

"I didn't ask _you_." The word was as sharp as a knife's edge, but he didn't look away from Henry for a moment. "I'm right, aren't I?"

Robbie shook her head furiously, quaking with rage. On the periphery of her vision, she was vaguely aware of Henry watching her. " _No,"_ she seethed through gritted teeth. "I make my own way in the world. The only thing Professor Hidgens has ever helped me out with is getting rid of _you_."

"Get rid of me?" Scott scowled, his barely-repressed anger not bubbling up to the surface. "You know, all they told me was that a member of staff had complained about me. I knew it had to be about _her_ , but I had no idea which member of staff she'd gone crying to. This makes sense. _You're_ behind everything, aren't you?" He stepped toward Henry, squaring up to him. "You were there that night. What, you see me have one little disagreement with her _,_ and you think you'll make the most of it and pounce? That you'll turn her against me, then swoop in? Ruin my whole fucking life so that you can take advantage of her, is that it? It's creepy."

Robbie couldn't bear it. Earlier she had shut down, her usual behaviour when anxious. But with Henry here, it was like there was an override. All she needed was to protect him, for him to be okay. A wave of bravery crashed over her: she lunged forward, grabbing Henry's hand. He whipped his head toward her, frantic in the throes of panic. "Come on. We're leaving."

He quickly followed her out of the door, Scott's insults growing fainter the further they got to the entrance, but still ringing loud and clear in Robbie's mind.

~~~

"Does anybody want some of these noodles? They're really good, I'm just so full." Finn flopped backwards, head landing on Dan's thigh. His boyfriend chuckled, ruffling Finn's red hair as they lounged on the sofa.

"Ooh, gimme." Robbie reached out for the carton, eagerly scooped a pile of the fresh takeout onto her plate, and held it out to her own partner. "Want some?"

"Oh, uh... No, thanks." He gestured toward his own, largely empty plate. "I've got enough."

"No, you don't." She got up from her place, cross-legged on Finn's lounge floor, and walked to Henry's chair, giving him a gentle pat on the back. He tensed at her touch.

He had been so quiet all night. Not rude or cold, but _quiet_. That was worrying when it came to Henry - he was always the most boisterous presence in the room, even when they were hanging out with Finn (which was saying something).

Everybody knew why, of course. Nobody had expected their evening to take such a horrible turn quite so quickly, and besides from a few disparaging comments on the car ride to Finn's apartment, no-one had talked about it. There was a silent understanding among the friends: Henry was embarrassed, anxious, upset... He would talk about it when he was ready.

"You need to eat something."

He gazed upward at her. "It's fine. I promise."

"Please, eat."

She ran a hand through his hair; he shut his eyes, breathing deeply, letting himself relax into his seat. Danny gave Robbie a sympathetic smile; Finn gazed sadly at the professor.

"It's just..." He stopped. He shook his head ever so slightly, sighing. "Tonight was really..."

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"Why the hell are _you_ sorry?" Danny blurted out. "You did nothing wrong. Scott is a prick and he deserved everything he had coming to him."

"You're a massive upgrade, Professor." Finn contributed, not moving from his comfy spot nestled into Dan's leg.

Henry opened his eyes, a smiled warmly - yet a little sadly - at the two men. "That's not saying much. _Anybody_ would be an upgrade from that sleazeball."

"Umm, did you not listen to everything I told you on the way to the restaurant? Robbie has been mad about you for _ages_."

Henry blushed a rosy pink, failing to hide his growing smile. "But you were just kidding when you said that."

Robbie squeezed his shoulder. "Honestly? No. It's true. I liked you for a long time."

He no longer tried to hide his delight, taking her hand. "You did?"

Robbie grinned and rolled her eyes in an attempt to deflect her emotion, punching him gently in the arm as he brushed his lips against the back of her hand. In the periphery of her vision, she could see Finn watching in utter glee. " _Stop it,"_ She chuckled. "Or they'll never stop teasing me."

Henry's smile fell a little; she watched as the shadow of a new thought flickered across his face.

"It's just, I..." He let go of her hand. "I should have stood up for you, but I didn't know what to say. Well, I did, but I _couldn't_. That night at the theatre, when I insulted him before, that was before we knew each other. I didn't know what was at stake back then, but now I do, and... It was all just too much. I froze up back there. And if I couldn't even cope with _that_ , how will I cope if...?"

He didn't have to say it, Robbie knew what he had intended: how would he cope if the world really did end? After all, he had spent his whole life preparing for the worst. The thought that he might not be able to react well under pressure must have been a terrifying prospect for him.

Robbie knelt by his chair, taking his hand again and squeezing it. It earned her a soft smile from him, and her heart leapt.

 _He's mine_ , her mind sang, over and over again.

"Trust me, Henry," she murmured, drinking in the sight of his face. "It's okay. I don't need you to stand up for me. And hey - if anything bad happens again in the future, maybe I can be the one who protects _you_ , hmm?" 

"Oh! I've got a fun idea," Finn chimed in, a clear attempt to lighten the mood. "What _would_ you have said to Scott? If you could've said anything?"

Hidgens chuckled. "What _wouldn't_ I have said?"

Danny swallowed an overly large forkful of his dinner. "I called him a piece of shit, but I bet you can do better than that."

Henry gestured for the carton of food, and Robbie scraped it all out onto his plate, glad to see his appetite return. He began to tuck in. "Hmm... I mean, I called him an asshole the first time we met. So I'd have to improve from that." He paused his chewing, casting his eyes upward, clearly lost in thought. Robbie snickered at the amount of effort he was putting into this imaginary argument. 

"I think," Henry finally said, "I'd have to tell him - if he thinks I 'pounced' and took advantage of Robin, he's very much mistaken." He smirked at his girlfriend. " _She_ pounced on _me._ "

Finn squealed, instantly falling about laughing. "The best part is it's _true!_ She was thirsty for _months_!"

"Oh my god, _Finn!"_ Robbie barked at him in protest, but her heart wasn't in it; his laugh was far too infectious and he was, of course, entirely correct.

"Aaaand on that note," Danny stood up, putting his leftovers on the table, "I think it's time for us to go to bed."

"It's time for _those_ two to go to bed, more like!" Finn continued the joke, gesturing toward Henry and Robbie and bursting with laughter. 

Robbie couldn't help it, she joined in, her laughter wracking her body until she was a useless cackling mess. "Imagine," She gasped through giggles, "Imagine Scott's face if I had said, like, 'Oh no, the Professor isn't gross. Him calling you an asshole was the hottest thing I've ever seen.'"

"Actually," Hidgens interjected, "I think I'd like to change my answer. I'd rather just not say anything; I'd just hit him."

"Then I'd have to change what I'd say too," Robbie chuckled, "Because if you hit Scott, _that_ would probably be the sexiest thing I've ever seen."

"Oh, well," Hidgens leaned into her, placing his hand on her waist, speaking in the most over-the-top flirty voice he could muster, "In that case, I'd punch him right in the face."

Danny cringed but was clearly still entertained by his friends' antics. "Gross. I'm gonna say good night. Finn, you coming?"

"Sure. We should probably give these two some privacy anyway." Finn wiggled his eyebrows, and Robbie pulled a face at him, shaking her head.

That is until she felt Henry's grip on her waist tighten.

They made eye contact for a fraction of a second; it was enough for her to know that something had changed. She wasn't sure what she had done or said, but Henry seemed to brim with confidence, a desire to--

"Are you two gonna sleep in the lounge, or...?" Danny began cleaning up the litter.

"No, I don't think so." Hidgens rose to his feet, brushing down his clothes to make sure they were as neat as ever. Now that the night's anxieties had been put to rest, Robbie let herself consider what he wore: his button-up shirt followed the contours of his upper body so closely, she could make out his toned arms and trim chest. 

The night before, they had spent their first night together. He had slept in a baggy long-sleeved shirt, and she had borrowed something similar from him to wear as pyjamas ("Please don't judge me for my sleepwear," he had mumbled, tossing her the oversized top, "It's not like anybody ever sees them so I never bothered buying anything nice."). 

They had talked a little about their favourite songs from the musicals they had listened to together, made fun of the characters they didn't like, and generally talked sweet, innocent nonsense to each other in the dark until Henry fell asleep and Robbie gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead, before drifting off herself.

The night before had been so pure and loving, Robbie had almost forgotten that there was ever the suggestion of things becoming more... physical. She hadn't even seen him without his shirt. Now, however, she imagined how he might look like without it, her gaze roaming his soft lines, the ridge of his collarbone, the... 

_Oh shit._

_He's looking at me the same way._

"Uhh, no," Hidgens repeated, tearing his attention from Robbie's little black dress. "I have lots to do tomorrow morning, so it makes more sense for me to head back to my place. But thank you for the offer."

"You're very welcome." Danny smiled; there was a playful suspicion in his tone that Robbie clocked immediately. "And _you_ , Robbie? Where will you sleep?"

"Well, I... Uh... It's been a tough evening. Henry, well, he shouldn't get a taxi all alone. I'll jump into a car with him, make sure he gets home, okay, and then I'll just head straight back to my own apartment."

She was a bad liar. Danny saw straight through it, but of course, he didn't acknowledge that. 

"No worries, guys. Thanks for a fun evening, even after everything that happened. and uhh..." He winked at Robbie when he was sure that Henry wouldn't spot him. "I hope it only gets better from here."

She glanced across at Henry, who stared back, smirking before he quickly typed his address into his phone.

_I hope so too._

**xx.xx**


	25. As Long As You're Mine

**_Say there's no future_ **   
**_For us as a pair_ **   
**_And though I may know_ **   
**_I don't care_ **   
**_Just for this moment_ **   
**_As long as you're mine_ **   
**_Come be how you want to_ **   
**_And see how bright we shine_ **   
**_Borrow the moonlight_ **   
**_Until it is through_ **   
**_And know I'll be here holding you_ **

**_\- 'As Long As You're Mine',_ ** **Wicked**

xx.xx

Stirring from sleep. Soft sheets. Soft light streaming in: the moon and her stars. Bars on the window.

And him, slumbering there.

Slowly, Robbie awoke, her senses returning to her one by one.

She sat up to take in her surroundings; having woken up somewhere other than her own apartment at 3 am she was a little disorientated. The sight of Henry sleeping soundly next to her instantly grounded her - as did the delicate cotton against her skin, warmed by their bodies and scented with his cologne. She was in his bedroom.

The moon cast her light, pale and blue, through the barred window. The shadows streaked his face, his lips parted slightly, the room quiet enough to hear his gentle breathing.

Within a few moments, though, she realized why she had woken: there was a low rumbling in the distance, belonging to a thunderstorm too far away to matter.

 _How comforting_ , she thought, still half-submerged in the haze. Somewhere out there was a force of nature whose only effect on her was to rouse her gently from sleep. She hoped all the storms she would face could be this harmless. She doubted that, but right now it didn't matter.

Henry's eyelids fluttered a little; perhaps he had heard it too, somewhere deep in his mind. Still asleep, his breath fastened ever so slightly, the skin on his bare shoulder almost paper-white in this low light. She felt a compulsion to reach and touch it, but she refrained.

 _Let him sleep,_ her mind muttered softly, as memories of the night before flooded back.

She remembered in an intoxicating, hot rush the reason his shoulder was bare. Why _her_ shoulders were also bare.

Robbie rested her head against the backboard, plush and comfortable, staring upward at the ceiling and allowing the memories wash over her, as gentle and sweet as the moonlight through the window.

He'd gotten frustrated unbuttoning his shirt, unable to manipulate the buttons due to the nervous tremors wracking his body. He had half-jokingly suggesting simply ripping it open, and Robbie had laughed - but instead, she stood there, gently undoing it for him.

A distant boom and a jolt next to her: Henry woke up, panting, pushing his hair back from his bleary eyes and sitting upright.

"What's that noise?" He sounded panicked, but in his still half-asleep state it came across as confusion. His face softened as he saw Robbie sitting next to him, but he didn't quite lose his frantic energy.

"Shh, shh." She snuggled up closer to him, finally letting herself touch him again, warming her cool hands on his hot cheeks and neck. "It's okay. I think there's a storm out there somewhere."

This only seemed to make him tenser: "Lightning?"

"Not that I can see."

He turned his head around, his body still covered by the bed sheet, his attention entirely focused on the window.

Robbie studied the view in front of her with bated breath: his back a near-silhouette in the moonlight, silver flecks shimmering in his hair.

"Robbie," He muttered, after a seeming eternity. "I really wanted tonight to be better for you."

She almost hated to disturb the perfect view in front of her by becoming part of it, but how could she not? She wanted to hold him, to hug him so tight that he would never be able to feel frightened or lonely or broken ever again. She shuffled forward until their thighs met underneath the sheet and she could nestle her head on her shoulder, joining him in watching the world through the window.

"It was perfect."

"Oh," He smiled, attention flickering back to her face for a moment, before returning to the window. "I don't mean _that._...well, maybe that too, but - I'm still upset with myself for how I froze up and did nothing. The more I think of it, the more I wish I'd actually punched him right in the face."

"Mm." Robbie nuzzled into the hot skin, adorning it with small kisses. "Well, as fun as it is to imagine, you're better than that. I know you would never hurt somebody unless it was totally necessary."

He tensed up a little in response, and they sat in silence for a few moments. Another faraway crackle.

"I sometimes think," Henry began, his tone as warm and soft as the blankets that surrounded them, "That the only way I'd ever truly be able to live normally is if the world _did_ end."

He paused momentarily, perhaps waiting for Robbie to react negatively. She remained wrapped around him, the only difference now being that she had started to stroke his hair. "Yeah?"

"I've lived so long in fear of it happening, so long preparing for it, that the actual event would be like ripping off the band-aid."

"What do you think is going to happen?"

"I don't know." He swallowed hard as he noticed a flash of light on the horizon, but was calmed by her soft caresses. "I've had plenty of theories. Storms make me nervous. So does the news. Politics; the climate; war. In any case, I feel like if it happened... I'd finally have some kind of peace. Either I'll die and I won't have to worry about it any more, or I'll live and I'll know that my life wasn't wasted."

"I don't think your life has been wasted," Robbie planted a kiss behind his ear and he reached around to place his hand on her back.

"I haven't wasted the four months since we met. But honestly... those four months have been more meaningful than the last twenty years."

The room seemed to hum with acceptance and comfort; between the warm sheets and their bare skin, the quiet affection they expressed now and the frantic, tangled, fervid pledges they had made here last night - Robbie felt like she could say anything at all in the world.

"Henry," She whispered, "If there was nothing left that could ever frighten you - what then?"

"I think I'd be lonely again," He stroked the length of her spine with his thumb. "Because you frighten me way more than the apocalypse ever could."

She chuckled softly, willingly ignoring the tide of emotion his suggestion had conjured up inside her, for fear of drowning in them "If there was nothing left to frighten you apart from _me_."

He continued to gaze ahead, but Robbie got the sense that he was no longer watching the horizon; instead, it seemed that he was watching something in his own minds-eye, something far away and unobtainable. "Then I'd want to spend all my life terrified by you. I would be scared that you were getting a sunburn while we walked down the beach on vacation. Or I'd be frightened that you were going to catch a cold if you didn't wear a jacket to go out in the snow with me. I'd want you to terrify me in all the ways you possibly could; in all the ways that my way of life makes impossible for us."

The tide crashed against the beach, and she found herself unable to reply, a lump in her throat blocking any inadequate words she would have been able to reply with.

"Sorry, that's probably too much. I know it hasn't been long," He murmured, turning back to her, the moonlight caught in his pale eyelashes, "But apparently, you've had a crush on me for _months_."

Robbie chuckled, hoping he didn't notice the tears she'd tried to stop from welling up. "Oh, you really can't let go of that, can you?"

He smirked. "I never will."

She rested her head back on his shoulder. "I remember walking to my seat to watch the show at the Starlight. And I looked up and I saw you sitting next to me, and something shifted. There was this feeling of recognition, of _seeing_ , of being _seen_. I don't know when my feelings started but it can't have been too long after that. No, this," She gestured between them, "Isn't something I've just decided to try out. I actually... I really do..." Her voice faded out, blocked entirely now by the threat of a sob.

"I know you do." He turned to her, taking her hand and pressing it to his lips, looking her deep in the eyes before resting his forehead on hers. "I love you too."

"God, Henry," She gasped, stuttering through the few tears that fell freely now.

"I know. I know." He planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "What the fuck are we going to do?"

"I mean... I have no plans for the future, apart from finally getting my degree." She sniffled, for the first time allowing herself to imagine what the years past graduation might hold for her and Henry. She could stay here with him, she could keep him company - they could stay cooped up here forever, writing little songs and philosophising, wildly and uncontrollably, until either the world ended or they did.

"I've planned for futures that may never happen." He shot a disdaining look at the bars on his window. "But at the same time, I don't know how to get away from those plans; or this place. You're not tied down like that, not yet."

"I wouldn't mind staying."

"I know, Robbie. But You could go anywhere, do anything - I can't. And I won't be the thing that anchors you. I mean that."

"How about," Robbie sniffed, "We try to be happy just for now? I mean, I'm not graduating for two more years, so - we can take these moments when we can, I'll frighten you in all the ways that you'll let me... And then future us can worry about what happens next."

A moment spent deep in thought, and then... "Yes. Of course. And I'll do everything I can to make this - us - more normal for you, more fulfilling."

"It's _already_ \--"

" _Robbie_ ," He interrupted, but not unkindly. "We don't know what will happen with us in the future, but I don't want you feeling trapped in this place with me in the meantime. I'm going to do my best to make things feel at least slightly conventional. Like... Oh!"

He broke his attention entirely from the window now, shuffling around so that he faced her fully. Even in this pale light, she could see a sudden excitement in his face. "I'll take you to the theatre as often as I can - did you hear that the touring production of Mamma Mia is coming to the Starlight in a couple of months?"

She giggled and groaned, wrinkling her nose. _"Mamma Mia?"_

"Not a fan?"

She turned around, resting back onto his broad, bare chest. "Never seen it, gotta admit. Always looked so cheesy."

"Well," Henry pulled the blankets up over them both. "It's not got the gravitas that Workin' Boys will inevitably have, but it's good fun. Want to go?"

Robbie felt her eyelids grow heavy, the far-away storm now lulling her back to sleep, rather than ripping her from it.

"Mm, sure. Please. I mean... what's the worst that could happen?"

xx.xx


	26. To Have A Home

**I've finally found it  
A place where I'm wanted...  
This must be how it feels  
To have a home**

\- 'To Have a Home', _A Very Potter Sequel_

xx.xx

"He's a little grouchy sometimes, sure, but he's never mean. I really think he's coming round to me. Yesterday, I passed by his desk - y'know, just to say hi - and we stood talking for ages. He asked me about my weekend, I told him that I spent it watching theatre bootlegs and then... Well, that was the end of the conversation, but it felt like progress!"

Robbie took a long, loud sip of her milkshake, straw rattling. "He sounds like a real charmer."

"I know you're being sarcastic," Melissa huffed, still picking at her lunch. "But I mean it! Paul's a good guy, I'm not describing him well enough."

"Sorry, sorry - I don't mean to be condescending, honest. But really," Robbie set her drink down with a clatter, folding her arms and swinging her legs underneath the diner table. "You deserve somebody as nice as you are. I'm sure Paul is great, but don't limit yourself! I bet there are tons of cool guys at work."

Mel seemed to consider it for a moment, her pretty eyes cast upward, light sparkling in the lenses of her glasses. "Well... There's Ted, but he'd kinda sleazy."

"Gross. He ever make a pass at you?"

"No, but sometimes you catch him looking." Mel scrunched up her nose at the thought. "Hmm, who else... There's Bill."

"Oooh," Robbie paused scarfing down her fries for a moment, trying to encourage her cousin into talking. "Tell me about _Bill._ Bill sounds hot."

"Oh god, no, not like that!" Mel giggled, turning bright pink - a common trait in Robbie's family, it would seem. "He's super nice but he's like... _forty!"_ Robbie raised an eyebrow and smirked, and Mel gasped, her cheeks somehow burning even brighter. "Oh - Oh no, not that there's anything wrong with age g-gap relationships, they're just not--"

Robbie broke into a flood of giggles and Mel pouted. "Oh, shut up, Robbie. You know what I'm trying to say."

"I do," Robbie reigned in her chuckling, "I do, I'm just kidding. Well - whatever happens with Paul, you just make sure you're safe and being treated well, okay?" She picked up a fry, jabbing it in Mel's direction and scowling, in the most faux-threatening voice she could muster, "Or _else_."

Mel shook her head and groaned, but Robbie could see that she was smiling. "Or else? Or else _what?_ You're gonna burst into my office and tell everyone off?"

Robbie winked at her before taking another big slurp of her drink. "If that's what it takes. I'll march right in there and I'll go, ' _Ted! Stop being sleazy_!' And ' _Paul! You'd better date my Mel if you know what's good for you!_ '"

Mel groaned again but was no longer trying to hide her amusement. "Okay... And what about Bill?"

"Oh, I'd keep Bill for myself," Robbie took a massive bite of her burger. "You know I like older men."

"Ugh, Robbie," Mel whined, but her smile remained firmly in place. "You've always known exactly how to tease me, ever since we were little! I thought it'd stop when we grew up but I swear - you've just gotten worse."

Robbie continued to chew. "Well," She began, the sound muffled by her food, "What are big cousins for?" She swallowed hard, having bitten off more than she could chew. "So... Uh... How is the family these days?" Her throat was sore now, but she wasn't sure if it was due to her big bite or the words she was trying to force out. "How's my mom?"

Mel nodded at the floor, instantly avoiding Robbie's gaze. "Everyone's good. Pretty much the same as when you... Yeah. Your mom's fine."

"Yeah?" Robbie drummed her fingertips against the table. "Does she, uhh... Know that you and I have gotten back in touch?"

"...No. I'm sorry, I didn't know if you'd want me to tell her or not, so, I've been meaning to ask you."

Robbie nodded absentmindedly, taking another bite. She didn't quite know the answer: if her mom knew that she had reconnected with Mel, she might want to get back in touch with Robbie herself.

She might want her to come back to the "home" she'd once been cast out of.

Was she ready for that?

Is that what she _wanted_?

"You have nothing to be sorry for." She shot Mel a smile, as warm as she could muster despite the looming shadow threatening to overcast her otherwise silly mood. "No. It's good. You can tell her if it makes you more comfortable, but I'd rather... keep the no-contact thing we've got going on."

"You sure?" Mel leaned in across the small diner table, a florescent light flickering overhead. "I mean it's been so long, she might've changed her mind. She might be ready to apologize, she--"

"She can come to me." Robbie bit the inside of her cheek. "If she's ready to make amends for what happened, she can come to me." She imagined it for a moment, before giving a short, sharp, humorless laugh. "God, I can only imagine how that would go."

"What do you think would happen?"

"Oh, she'd be over the moon that I'd 'finally gotten myself a man.' She'd absolutely suggest that it meant I'd 'gotten over' being bi, or whatever." Robbie laughed again, picking at her food to give her nervous hands something to do. "Then she'd meet Henry, and... I doubt that he'd be her ideal choice of partner for me."

Mel frowned. "But he sounds so nice!"

"He _is_ nice! And he's good. And handsome. But - he's also a bisexual disaster. Chaotic queer energy radiates from him in waves."

"Sounds like you two are a good match then," said Mel, seemingly taking her chance to steer the conversation into a more enjoyable place. "How long has it been now?"

"We had a little kiss on Christmas, and then we talked about our feelings for the first time on New Year's so... about a month and a half?" Robbie tried to play it at least a little bit cool, but she couldn't help but smile as she cast her mind back to that night. It had been a blissful six weeks or so - apart from that hiccup at the beginning.

("I can't believe," Robbie had muttered one night, as the couple sat side by side at his piano, Henry trying out a tune or two whilst she scribbled down scraps of dialogue, "That you tried to push me away at first because you thought I just pitied you."

"I know." He sighed and leaned his head against her. "It's so far removed from what we have now. _..._ Now I'm trying to push you away because you're obsessed with me."

 _"Hey!"_ She had smacked his arm with her notepad, giggling as he retaliated with a rain of little kisses.)

"Robbie..."

Robbie snapped out of the memory. "What?"

"I said, _'What does he teach?'"_

"Oh, sorry!" Robbie felt a warm glow inside her chest; she always felt so proud to talk about Henry and what he did. "Biological sciences. He loves the theatre too - he's trying to write a musical."

"Oh, that's _so_ cool!" Mel wiggled in her seat: like most everybody in this town, she was obsessed with musicals. "Imagine if when he finishes it, it goes to Broadway!You could be in it! Or... you could direct it! Or..." She paused. "What _do_ you wanna do after you graduate?"

Robbie winced.

_Ugh, the dreaded question._

"Honestly? I'm not sure. I know I want to do _something_ in the entertainment industry, but I'm not much of an actor. Or a singer. I don't know." She took a breath. She wanted to make theatre: okay, fine. But why?"I guess... I want to make a difference. That might be a little vague, but--"

Mel had grown starry-eyed and enthusiastic, positively bursting to reply: "My boss, Mr Davidson, he says that _everyone_ should have something specific that they want! Something to inspire all of their actions, something that drives them towards success!"

Robbie grimaced. "What do _you_ want?"

Mel blushed. "...Paul."

_Well, I walked right into that one._

~~~

"Hey, I picked up some groceries." Robbie stood at the gates, arms full of bags, which were in turn full of snacks and supplies. She awkwardly jabbed at the intercom with her elbow again. " _Henry_. I'm outside!"

It crackled on, a warm and familiar sound by now. "...Did you get waffles?"

Robbie rolled her eyes. "Yes, I got waffles."

Another crackle. "...What about Oreos?"

"I swear to fucking god, Henry, you better open the gates." Robbie groaned with the weight of everything she had bought for him, straining to keep it all up.

She heard him laughing over the speaker, mischievous and carefree as a schoolboy. "You hear how she treats me, Alexa? Oh well... open the gates."

"Thank you, Alexa," Robbie added, before bustling through the opening, helped at the front door by her partner.

"Shit, sorry," He bit his lip. "I didn't realize how much stuff you'd bought, I wouldn't have goofed around with the machine if I'd known."

"It's okay, I just picked up a few things on my way over from seeing Melissa - she says hi." Robbie sighed as she settled the final bag down on the kitchen counter, bringing him in for a sweet kiss hello. "I must say though... I'm getting pretty suspicious of that Alexa."

"Yeah?" Henry began rifling through the bags, presumably to look for some sweet snack or another. Robbie had discovered recently that he lived on not much food at all, reducing his need to go to get groceries or to have a stranger come to his house.

Since dating her, however, she'd made sure that he had as much as he wanted - and he'd developed quite the sweet tooth.

"What?" he continued, once he'd found - and had torn open - a bag of cookies. "Are you worried that she's going to begin some kind of robot uprising? Because I won't lie, the thought has crossed my mind once or twice."

"No," Robbie replied, gesturing for him to hand them over and taking a couple for herself as she settled down on his couch, kicking off her sneakers, "I'm jealous of how much you two speak. I'm worried that you two are having an affair behind my back."

Henry gasped, an exaggerated image of surprise. "Oh my God. I've been rumbled. I'm so sorry," he launched himself into the couch next to her, "You weren't meant to find out this way, Robbie, but... Alexa!" A faint tinkling from across the room. "I love you."

"Oh... That's nice," It replied. If it hadn't been a machine, Robbie would have sworn that Alexa had great comic timing.

Henry gestured vacantly to his robot assistant. "Wow. See? She's not into me at all. Alexa, it's over between us." He collapsed in an over-dramatic heap with a massive sigh, his head landing in Robbie's lap. "So... I guess I'll have to settle for _you._ "

Robbie smirked, resting her face on her hand as she looked down at him. "Hmm... I don't know about that. You'll have to surprise me with something really nice for Valentine's Day. Then I'll consider taking you back from your robot mistress."

"Don't worry; I've not forgotten." He beamed up at her, framed by the tumbling dark hair that cascaded around her face. He reached up, lazily, nudging it out of the way so that he could see her eyes more easily. "This weekend."

"I'm joking. Valentine's Day is just a ploy to get people spending more money anyway."

Henry gasped again, clearly in an overly-dramatic mood: he often was at times like this, when he was at home and feeling confident. "So cynical!"

She rolled her eyes, leaning down and planting a small kiss on his forehead - and getting a mouthful of her own hair in the process. "Says the man who suspects that his Alexa may be conspiring to kill him."

"Well, she is now that I've dumped her." He reached up again, poking her clumsily in the cheek. "But you're worth it."

Robbie batted his hand out of the way, pretending that she didn't entirely adore his silliness. "Okay, so what do you wanna focus on this evening? I think if we really work at it, the first draft of Act One could be finished before--" Robbie was interrupted by the shrill sound of her phone ringing. She winced but continued. "Act One could be finished before the end of the week."

Henry sat up. "Aren't you going to answer that?"

Robbie waved her phone lazily in response. "Ugh, I don't know the number. Probably just telemarketers."

It rang off, and Henry smiled. "Okay then. Act One! Let's--"

 _His_ phone rang.

His eyebrows knitted together, pouting, clearly a little confused. "Huh." He pulled out his phone and showed Robbie the screen: her expression matched his as she saw the number on the screen. "Is this who called you just now?"

"Yep. Whoever it is must really wanna get a hold of _both_ of us."

"Yes." Henry's thumb hovered over the button. "But who? I mean - surely you've got Finn and Danny's numbers saved?"

Robbie nodded. That was a good point: who even knew that she and Henry were together? They hardly flaunted it. They spent most of their time here, writing their music or teasing each other. The first time she had come here, the sight of the little room had made her so sad, to think of him alone - now she knew that he wasn't, it had begun to feel rather like home.

She frowned as the ringing ceased. "I have Mel's number too, so it's not her. We better call back, one of them might be in trouble; might've lost their phone or something."

Henry was already on the case, redialing and waiting for an answer. He took Robbie's hand as he spoke, absentmindedly stroking her knuckle with his thumb. She remembered how it had felt on Christmas Day when he had done the same, secretively under the table: it had felt like electricity. It still did.

"Hello?" Henry pulled the phone away from his ear, putting the man on speakerphone so that Robbie could hear too.

"Hello - is this Professor Hidgens?" The voice was monotone and businesslike and instantly filled Robbie with a sense of unease. Who _was_ this?

"Yes." Henry's brow furrowed further, clearly sharing in his partner's confusion. "Who's speaking?"

A sigh on the other end of the line, as the man prepared to launch into his spiel. 

_"Hi, Gary Goldstein, attorney at law. Are you aware that my client, Scott Thomas, has been discriminated against?"_

**xx.xx**


	27. Five Forever

**From now on we are joined**   
**And we shall not be parted.**   
**From this day on it's all for one**   
**And one for all for life!**

**\- 'Five Forever',** **_Little Women_ **

**xx.xx**

"Ugh, never let me procrastinate anything again." Robbie wound the spaghetti around her fork, trying her best to not send the sauce flying everywhere, "I finally submitted my Russian Literature essay the other day; I stayed up all night working on it and honestly, I got to the point where I don't even care about the grade anymore."

"See, she says that - but then she'll come out on top of her class when the grades come back." Finn rolled his eyes and nudged Hidgens in the side. "She's always been the same."

"I don't doubt it." Hidgens replied, clearly not noticing that his own forkful of food was slipping - until it fell directly into his lap. "...Shit."

"Well," Robbie said, passing him a napkin as he began dabbing at the stain, "Those pants are ruined."

"Here's a trick my grandma taught me: baking soda. It'll take that right out, don't worry," Danny smiled. "...Or maybe I'm thinking of lemon juice... Or was it laundry detergent?"

"Wow," Finn interjected, in his usual deadpan delivery. "I didn't realize you were such a domestic goddess."

"Oh shh," Danny frowned. "You aren't one to talk; you don't even own an iron."

"I'm just gonna go throw these in the washer." Henry left the table, leaving Robbie with a little squeeze on the shoulder as he left the room.

"Thank you guys so much for coming tonight," She spoke in a hushed voice, hoping that Henry couldn't hear them, "Sorry to drag you all the way over here. He's really anxious about tomorrow, I think he needed the distraction."

"Oh shut up, you don't have to thank us. We love you, you idiot."

"Yeah," Danny gave her hand a squeeze and shot Finn a disapproving look. "You know we love the Professor, too. Besides, his place is so..." He looked around, mentally grasping for the right word. "Interesting."

"It's insane, I know." Robbie sighed. "But you've got to admit - if there was some kind of global disaster, _this_ would be the place to stay holed up. He's got a lab, a full bar... He's prepared well."

"A full bar?" Finn's eyes widened. "Why did we not get absolutely hammered here on Christmas?" Robbie rolled her eyes and he dropped the act. "But you know - if you need us at any point tomorrow, you've just got to call. I know it's going to be a weird day for both of you."

"I just don't know what to expect, and Henry is beside himself with worry," Robbie whispered, leaning across the table, really hoping that he couldn't hear them now. "I mean - Scott has an _attorney_. How would he even _know_ an attorney? What is he planning?"

"He's probably just appealing against being expelled. He doesn't have a case at all. You'll meet with them tomorrow, you'll remind him of the fact that _he harassed you for weeks_ , and that'll be the end of it. He's such a bastard, he--" Danny stopped short as he spotted Henry re-enter the room, and flashed him an over-the-top grin.

"Who's a bastard?" Hidgens laughed and settled back down in his chair, now wearing a different, darker pair of pants, and covered his lap with a napkin.

"Don't worry," Robbie sighed, "We weren't talking about you. We were just talking about... Well, y'know. Tomorrow."

"Oh." He squirmed in his seat. 

"Honestly, I - I feel so bad. I brought this into your life, and it's still causing problems, and--"

He sighed. "It isn't your fault. It's nobody's fault but his. Besides, it's a small price to pay for having you around. All of you." He smiled at Finn and Danny. "The thing I'm most nervous about is the fact that he's coming _here_. I'd be much too anxious to meet with him and his attorney anywhere else, but it's going to feel like such an invasion of my space."

His words lingered for a moment: Robbie, Dan and Finn had all come to care for the Professor deeply - one more _intensely_ , one might say, than the others - and there was a silent, secret agreement between them to brighten his mood.

"I tell you what," Finn was the first to break the pause, with his chirpy, playful tone. "Tonight has been a lot of fun. Honestly, we always get such a kick out of seeing you, Professor."

"Thank you. And remember, you two - you don't have to call me Professor." Hidgens warmed a little, smiling softly.

"Force of habit," Finn shrugged, with a chuckle. "But - we should do this more often, like a weekly dinner! We could take turns making food!"

Robbie watched in quiet rapture as Henry opened up further, tomorrow being pushed away from his thoughts, allowing him to escape for just a little bit.

His happiness was hers.

"That... Would be really nice."

"It would," Danny finished the last of his pasta. "Although I have to say I wouldn't mind the Professor - sorry, _Henry_ \- cooking again and again. This was delicious."

Henry blushed. "It's just from a jar, but thanks."

"How about we all cook next time?" Robbie felt herself grow excited. She wasn't much of a cook - in fact, she was less of a domestic goddess and more of a domestic demon, burning frozen pizzas and leaving mess in her wake - but the thought was too fun to deny. "Henry and I could do the main course, you guys could do the dessert?"

"Oh, we could make grandma's pecan pie," Danny sighed, a sad, wistful expression taking him. "I miss her a lot."

Finn took his hand: for all of his playfulness, for all of his teasing, nobody would dare ever claim that he didn't love Dan entirely. "She always said she wanted you to pass on the recipe to your family, so... we could teach these guys how to make it."

Finn had made the remark as nonchalant as could be - but his words landed like a ton of bricks, smashing through Hidgens' tiny little dinner table.

Robbie instantly turned to Henry, to gauge his reaction. He took short, shallow breaths as if he'd been winded. "But you said... You said that you should pass it on to _family_."

"Well..." Robbie cut in, reaching underneath the table to give Henry's knee an encouraging pat. "I've considered Finn to be my only family for years now. Mel and I are back in touch, which I'm really grateful for, but everyone else I'm actually related to have cut all ties. So..."

She took a moment to lookat the faces of the men in front of her; to appreciate their differences. Finn's pale soft lines and pastels; freckles, spectacles and sly grin. Their teenage gossip in the school choir room and his shoulder to cry on. A brother in all but blood. 

Danny, handsome and masculine, bold colors and loud music, his black hair uniformly precise and his near-perfect smile wide and inviting. Robbie expected that the two would be married before the end of the decade. The closest thing to a brother-in-law she'd ever have.

And then there was Henry. Scattered papers and crumpled bedclothes. Hazy afternoons sat side by side at the piano. The cups of coffee he brought to her - without request - as she sat up late, writing that essay. The nightmares that woke him, and the promises of tomorrow that lulled him back to sleep. 

"So... I definitely think that _this_ ," She gestured to them all, "Could count as a little family too."

"It _does_." Finn grinned, nodding along like an excited child. "After all, a family doesn't always have to be a mom, a dad and their kids."

"Yeah!" Danny joined in; the couple's happiness at the thought was tangible. "I mean, sometimes a family can be... Well, a family can be a jock," he gestured to himself, "His musical theatre actor boyfriend, a renowned biologist professor and a college dropout." He winked at Robbie.

"Hey!" She whined, crossing her arms in mock-anger. "I'm an _ex_ -dropout! I'm in it for the long run this time around."

"And did you really just refer to yourself as a _jock_?" Finn shook his head disdainfully, chuckling all the while.

Hidgens, seemingly totally removed from the rest of their bantering, finally spoke up - just two words, a near-whisper, soft, lilting and sweet: "A _family_."

Robbie couldn't help but smile, heart fluttering and hands caressing his. "Yeah. I think it's fair to call the four of us a family. How's that sound to you?"

He nodded, his soft smile spreading into an outright grin. "That sounds pretty fantastic to me. Although I think you're forgetting somebody. There's _five of us -_ not four." Hidgens turned to the corner of the room. "You've left out Alexa."

~~~

"Shit. Maybe baking soda _was_ the way to go." Henry held up his pants, washed and dried overnight but still presenting a proud, red stain.

Robbie finished her makeup in his bedroom mirror, making sure her eyeliner was as precise as possible. She liked it to look sharp enough to kill a man: preferably Scott, of course. He would be showing up soon, and she wanted to look her best when she and Henry took him down a peg. "Maybe it _was_ , yeah. That kind of looks like a blood spatter. Hey, maybe you should keep them in case the world does end. It's apocalypse-chic."

Henry tossed them into the laundry basket. "I'll have you know that when the world ends, I won't regress into wearing _stained_ clothes. I'll want to look respectable." He gestured to his current outfit: a smart blazer and slacks, with a high-necked sweater. "Something like this would be far more appropriate. I plan on helping people after all; I don't want to scare them away."

Robbie stalked across the room, straightening his jacket. "You _always_ wear something like this." She giggled, gazing up at him - he was nearly a foot taller than her, after all. "Not that I'm complaining. But personally, I plan on being an apocalyptic warlord, so my style will be, like, old leather, body armor, weapons slung over my shoulders, that kind of thing."

He nodded in agreement. "That's hot. Sounds like a good look for you."

Robbie smirked. "You think so? Don't you think that might cause a strain on our relationship, if the world ends and whilst you're trying to save humanity, I'm out there waging wars and making things worse?"

Henry took her hand, slipping his other arm around her waist. "No." He began to sway, as if slow dancing in silence. "Because I'd join you."

Robbie began swaying along with him, her hand on his shoulder. "You'd turn to the dark side?" She nuzzled her head into his neck, enshrouded in the scent of his cologne, closing the distance between their bodies as they danced in silence. "You don't take much convincing, huh."

"Only when it comes to you."

"Good." She broke their embrace, cupping his sweet face in her hand. "Today's going to be okay, you know. Scott's just trying to fuck with us. We won't let him."

As if on cue, a robotic tinkling could be heard from the next room. The couple rushed over to the little black device, through which they could hear the quibbling of two - or was it three? - voices.

They had arrived.

"Hello?" Hidgens tapped the device.

"Ah, yes, hello - this is Gary Goldstein, attorney at--"

" _Yes_. Hello Mr. Goldstein, I'll buzz you in right now." Henry shot Robbie a pleading look, and she gave him a tight smile of reassurance, nodded, and squeezed his hand. "Alexa, open the gates."

"God, _finally_." This was a higher voice, serious and more overbearing and demanding than Scott's or Gary's, dripping with scorn.

The intercom clicked off, and Robbie frowned. "Uhhh... Who was that?"

"I thought that it would only be Scott and his lawyer, they didn't say that anyone else was coming with them." 

He opened the door, and together, he and Robbie watched as three people marched down the long pebble driveway: Scott, neat and well-dressed, his nose upturned and a smug smile plastered on his face; an older man they assumed to be Gary, visibly eager and practically bouncing with nervous energy... and leading them, a small woman with platinum blonde hair and a unerring air of authority.

"Hello, Professor." She grinned as she reached the front door, the men stopping behind her. It seemed more like she was baring her teeth than an actual smile, her tone artificially sweet. "I'm Scott's aunt--" 

She extended a hand for Henry to shake, willfully ignoring Robbie's existence. 

"Linda Monroe, President of the Hatchetfield Boating Society. May we come in?"


End file.
